


*’ 0 W 0 ’ , 


' *'■ 


» vP- „ 

/ .4.^^ 



^ r\^ fi^ y^ <L^ O ^0 

"*' ^ ^ono^ ^#,1* aO 

^ AV « » Vl.'4 '^> \^ • ^ • O-r ^ 0^ S * ' 


*V*^ * 


V ^ d 


r. ^ 




*• ♦ 







*6 4.7^^' A 

-0^ c ® “ ® • "^O IV , t ^ ^ 

To ^ ^ ^'^/t?^- '^•3' 



^ a M #~rf*i— ^ ^ ^£a fl 

^ * * '’ * * ^ « M O * 



c,^'^n - 


©wo 




..s* A 



V f 


C.^ '^n 

♦ <.7 . 

" .V 


"O •••'*>• '^>4 o •» o ^ 






■ ^o 


O ^ I « \J-. ^ 


- ^ ^ ’ ' 



* 

-1^ .♦‘i-^’- 



• • * ' .<> 'Cj. 'o * il 


* J’ '%. . 

* 5-^ % 


o -sX'^ ^ o 

• ^ O 

>0^ o 

-i. <''%'1 \\nSS* ' * 

V ‘'oTo® O 

* * *>s.* ^ I' * ®4» *v^ \0 «. • "^ ” ^ 

• ^ ^ ♦ -J 

: • 

• (• ^ J 

♦ 4? • 

• 4 , 







• A° ^ 

'. « 



♦ ^ r o 





' \o <<■ '»•** 

\ ,0^ 0 

'■’* o'*'^ 

,4q^ 



' _ J’® ’•.. 

O H 0 " ^ “ * 

’ ’^. •, 




€ 



4 



SHE WAS THE FIRST TO HEAR THE WHEELS 








LITTLE MISS EVANGELINE 

A STORY FOR 

GIRLS 


EVELYN 

RAYMOND 

AUTHOR OF 

“A HEROINE OF 
ROSELAND” ^ 
'^QUAKER MAIDEN 

"the whirligig” 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

EMMA TROTH 


The Penn Publishing* Company 

PHILADELPHIA M C M V 1 1 1 I 







LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
) wo Couies rtecetvoi) 

JUN 25 1908 



COPYRIGHT 
1908 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBUSHING 
COMPANY 




Contents 


I A Contest of Nations 7 

II A Model Tourist and a Tourist’s 

Model 22 

III Mere Marie 36 

IV Angel Has Visitors 49 

V Angel’s Charge 64 

VI When a Week Had Passed .... 78 

VII Suspicion and Friendship .... 95 

VIII A Dinner Guest iio 

IX A Wise and Willing Friend . . . 126 

X What I Must I Can 143 

XI A Chapter of Accidents 158 

XII Black Jack Makes Trouble . . . 173 

XIII Would-Be Helpers 189 

XIV In the Shut Room 203 

XV Deepening Perplexities 218 

XVI Mysteries 233 

XVII Concerning Clothes and Other 

Things 249 

XVIII One Mystery Explained . . . . 2.67 

XIX An Unselfish “ Digby Chicken ” . . 283 

X>K After the Peril — Peace .... 296 

XXI Compensations 309 

XXII A Miracle 328 

XXIII The Solving of the Mysteries . . . 343 

3 


m&' ^ : SS".vV'4^ : . •■ l^ttt:- : 

,«Vr''.o^& .1 . 'SBai.Liiw.jvn vijuvA^AMmAdr#v'ii< ^flk ■ '*.v 'v^HHuia 


^ w.W* ,. 






4 


■ ' ‘ r *» ' t ' 

rrT^i[jV 1 ^ ■ '*.v, 

'■*H''»V^A'a',.^...-' ■ 







h i../l‘' 






I . ' '■ 


*i* > 


■ h‘ 

^ ' 1 I 


< ..l'. 'V,: 




.V- 


i « 










./ 4 # 


.7 " • ' y •: 

U f •* ^ ^ • - 

y it ' ' ' ‘ 




^:J! 


»*■: 


I /^'P|' , ' t ^ i ■ 

>.s:''i;' i ■ /' '■ . 

. '■', ■■ ' ^ ^■' 
, *.• • • -^ ' '. ■ •• • -f 

' . » , • ( 4 *• * \ 

• • •?*•*. ^ 


: '!?( 


1 ,'. 






Illustrations 


PAGB 

She Was the First to Hear the Wheels, Frontispiece 

It Was Very Heavy 34 

The Girl Leaned Above the Churn .... 104 

“ Here Comes the Very Wisest Man” . . . 126 

As He Pounded He Sang 166 

Telling Stories OF THE Southland . . . . 213 

<< I Didn’t Think It Looked So Wide” . . . 289 


Little Miss Evangeline 


5 



Little Miss Evangeline 


CHAPTER I 

A CONTEST OF NATIONS 

** But I say I will not share it with any- 
body, I ! Not with any single body. So be- 
lieve me. It is my right and Mere Marie’s. 
For I, Evangeline Brevard, am an Acadian. 
I belong.” 

With all the vehemence of her excitable 
nature the little maid sprang up from the 
weedy grass before the ancient church and 
began a swift pacing to and fro, flinging her 
bare brown arms to right and left, and scowl- 
ing beneath her straight, dark brows upon the 
group of her playmates w^ho, to avoid the mid- 
day heat, were huddled within the shade of 
the old picket fence. 

Pooh, Angel ! What’s the use in fussing? 
Fair for one is fair for another. The quick- 
est and cleverest gets the most, anyway. 
Though ” 


7 


8 


Little Miss Evangeline 

“ Though what, Marian Melanson ? de- 
manded Angel, hotly. 

Big Marian rose, stretched her long body, 
and yawned. Then without answering she 
turned and scanned the dusty road to the 
westward. There was no living thing in sight, 
save a few hens scratching by the roadside. 
Marian sank down again within the shadow of 
the fence, where she composed herself for a 
nap she wasnT destined to secure. For AngeTs 
voice insistently demanded : 

^ Though ' what, Marian Melanson ? It^s 
mean, I say it’s mean, to begin a thing and 
not finish it ! ” 

Archibald, Marian’s stalwart twin, an- 
swered for his sister : 

I’ll tell if she won’t. We’ve talked it all 
over, this very day that is, and we say that 
the tourists belong to us and not to you. We 
live here all the year round ; you only ” 

“ Before ever you were I was ! I mean, of 
course, before your people, your cruel people, 
came mine ! Grand Pr6 is theirs, is ours. 
They made it. If there are sights to see they 
belong to us Acadians, and so does the money 
for showing them. Mere Marie ” 


A Contest of Nations 


9 

In his own turn, interrupting, Archie 
calmly finished his sentence : 

“ You^re only a summer ‘ tourist ^ yourself, 
Evangeline Brevard. You come with the 
spring and go with the first frost. That’s 
the sort of Acadian you are. Cold weather 
kills you as your people were killed off long 
ago. Marian is right. All the nickels and 
pennies the visitors give belong to us. Be- 
sides, this old church isn’t Acadian, anyway. 
Nearly everybody knows better than that. 
Isn’t that so, Sandy?” 

The lad addressed, a freckled, coppery-haired 
boy, most appropriately named Sandy, nodded 
his head. 

Scotch, this church is. Scotch. It be- 
longs to us Scotchers, my father says. So it’s 
mine to show to strangers, a hundred times 
more’n it’s yourn, Angel Brevard, or Archie 
Melanson’s, either one. So.’’ 

“ So. So there ! ” loyally echoed fiaxen- 
headed Ailsie, snuggling close to her brother 
Sandy, with an adoring glance into his unre- 
sponsive face. Her round cheeks, her chubby 
arms, and her much-stubbed toes were all as 
pink as the little frock she wore, and so pretty 


10 


Little Miss Evangeline 

was she that once an enthusiastic tourist/^ 
discovering the child against a background 
of wild rose-bushes, had declared her the 
“ sweetest flower of all.” But not all her 
sweetness affected Sandy, her idol. It was 
quite in the nature of things that she should 
worship him. It had always been so. That’s 
what sisters were made for. So neither he, 
nor either of the three Melansons, paid any 
heed to Ailsie, beyond Sandy’s rude push 
aside and his injunction : 

“ Don’t scrouge ! It’s hot ! ” 

But Angel was down on her knees at once, 
drawing the rosy face to her shoulder and 
kissing the quivering, hurt little lips with an 
abounding affection. 

There, don’t you mind, sweetheart ! Boys 
are hateful. All boys. Even good Mere 
Marie says she can’t guess why they were 
made. Angel is here now, all summer long 
to be in dear Grand Pr6 ! Such times, such 
good, good times we’ll have together, Ailsie. 
All by our own two selves. Don’t cry I I 
hate tears ! ” 

Ailsie bestowed two dewy, responsive kisses 
of her own, then calmly demanded 


A Contest of Nations 


11 


Sandy, too ? Sandy ? '' 

No, silly one I Didn’t you hear me say 
* by our own two selves ’ and no other ? Sandy, 
indeed I He’s the last one. He not only 
tries to cheat me out of my rightful earnings 
but out of my — my precious church, as well I 
Oh I I’ll not forgive that * Scotcher ’ in a hurry, 
and I’ll prove him a story-teller, too. Mere 
Marie will silence him all right. Why, 
Ailsie ! ” 

The child had slipped away from Angel 
and cuddled again to Sandy’s side ; who, 
moved, it may be, by the impression that they 
should join forces against a common enemy, 
not only ceased to repulse his ally but even 
permitted his soiled fingers to rest protectingly 
upon her yellow locks. Whereat the little 
girl smiled, beatifically, and at once fell asleep. 

The children had divided themselves, if 
unconsciously, into three distinct groups ; of 
which, Marian, Archibald, and Ned Melanson 
had ensconced themselves in the shadiest, 
most comfortable nook in that old church- 
yard of Grand Pre. Had they been asked 
they would have said that this was fitting. 
Wasn’t their father the richest farmer in all 


12 


Little Miss Evangeline 


that beautiful valley? And wasn’t he part 
owner in the ship that carried his great crops 
across the wide bay to far-away St. John’s, 
where the crops once sold, he even put money 
in a bank ? 

For though the farmer’s children had scant 
understanding of what a bank ” meant, they 
were thoroughly familiar with and eager for 
“ money,” as represented by the “ tips ” of 
tourists visiting their historical valley. To be 
first at the old church, to act as guide through 
the simple building, which always stood wide 
open and where no guide was needed, this 
was their daily ambition from the beginning 
to the end of the season. 

So, also, was it the ambition of the black- 
smith’s Sandy and the latter’s little echo, 
Ailsie. To these small people the nickels 
were far more needful than to their neighbors 
of the farm ; but being slower of wit and 
action, they did not secure them half as often 
as the nimbler Marian or Archie. 

Ned didn’t count. Until this morning, 
neither had Evangeline Brevard. Hitherto 
she had cared as little for the nickels of 
strangers as he ; and both had better loved 


A Contest of Nations 


13 


the woods and orchards than the bare old 
building before which they all now wrangled. 
Ever since the girl could remember she had 
come to M^re Marie with the first breath of 
spring and tarried till the first snow fell, just 
as Archie had said. Then she sped home- 
ward to the little town of Digby, to the pinched 
abode where her father trained his four sons 
in the art of lumbering, and of fish-curing, 
when the season of each was on. 

But now she was different. She craved the 
bits of money with a craving far beyond that 
of the thrifty Melansons or the needy Wyldes. 
During this last winter of absence, on such 
days as her mother had been strong enough 
to spare her, she had been at school and had 
begun the study of history. It was then she 
had learned what it meant to be an Acadian,’^ 
and, with her young heart and soul aflame 
with the story of her people, she had come 
Home to Grand Pre and to great-grand- 
mother Mere Marie, who was the oldest 
Acadian of all. 

Her questions were as fire to gunpowder and 
roused that venerable dame to the disclosure of 
a secret, mighty project of her own. Said she: 


14 Little Miss Evangeline 

'' Ah I my Angel ! Rightly did I make 
them give their one girl baby that name 
which has touched so many hearts to sym- 
pathy. Believe me, little Evangeline, you 
are come into these late days — of a purpose. 
You are not for yourself ; you are for 
a purpose. You are to live for that, al- 
ways. The end is great, the means are small, 
but despise not, my little one, their small- 
ness. Money ? Bah ! Yet one can do no 
great work without the money. Pitiful, is it 
not? 

Listen. What is that I heard ? That 
those English children, the descendants of the 
wretched Melansons, even they gathered in 
dollars. Yes, dollars ! By littles, and more 
littles, this last year it was, from the strangers 
of the ' States ^ who come to look upon our 
ruins. Go you, my treasure, and tell those 
English that this time the dollars shall be for 
us, the Acadians. Tell them that from me. 
Mere Marie, but not for what use, sweetheart. 
Ah ! that is the precious secret we share to- 
gether, thou and I. But tell them Mere 
Marie will now have all the money of the 
strangers, and even these young insolents will 


A Contest of Nations 15 

not say her nay. For I who speak am Mere 
Marie, the ancient and revered.” 

Now how very, very old she was none living 
knew save Mere Marie herself and she told 
nobody. She was still alert enough to care 
for her tiny cottage and her simple habits had 
kept her sound and sane. The look of exalta- 
tion which settled now upon her features 
seemed to banish wrinkles and restore them 
to a strange youthfulness ; and it was no 
marvel that impulsive Angel entered fully 
into her grand-dame’s scheme and felt that her 
own mission in life was to be also an exalted 
one. In that mood she had hurried from the 
cottage, across lots to the old Covenanter 
church, where soon there should arrive buck- 
board after buckboard, filled with curiosity- 
seekers from the hotels in the neighboring 
towns. 

All through the season, year after year, they 
came by hundreds to visit this land made fa- 
mous by both fact and fiction. Also, in the 
main, these holiday-makers were generous folk, 
who listened patiently to the oft-told tale 
which the childish, self-appointed caretakers 
of the old building repeated, and usually left 


i6 Little Miss Evangeline 

a coin in the outheld palm of the story-tell- 
ers. At any hour of the day the backboards 
came, but mostly in the morning ; and, like 
the early bird,” the English Melansons, the 
Scottish Wyldes, and the one Acadian were 
this day on hand to snatch the traditional 
^^worm” — in other words, the tourists’ fees. 

For a time now, the children ceased to dis- 
pute. Ailsie was asleep, Sandy dozing, Marian 
and Archie playing cat’s-cradle with a bit of 
string, Ned rewinding his newest fish-line, 
and Angel listening more intently to her own 
ambitious thoughts than for any real sounds 
upon the road beyond. 

Yet she was first to hear the rumble of 
wheels, and like a flash had darted within the 
old building and up the steep stairs to the 
high pulpit, where she took her stand with 
an air of defiant possession. She was surprised 
that the others did not follow her or distribute 
themselves among the high-backed old pews 
below. Commonly, Marian would have sta- 
tioned herself before the “visitors’ book” at- 
tached to one of the small pillars and have 
been ready to present pen and ink to the first 
comer who would inscribe his name. 


A Contest of Nations 


17 


“ How odd this is ! The wheels did stop. I 
see a wagon, a single one, through the window, 
but even Archie doesn’t get up and ” 

Angel checked her own exclamations and 
stared at a girl who walking upon crutches 
quietly entered the church and as quietly 
seated herself in one of the rear pews. Till 
then she had not glanced pulpit-ward nor 
discovered Angel perched there ; but when she 
lifted her eyes she stared in return. What 
she saw was a slight little creature in a scarlet 
frock, with eyes of dazzling brightness and a 
mass of close-cropped curls. Both eyes and 
curls were almost black in hue and the face 
which their darkness accented was brown and 
seemed full of mischief. 

‘‘Oh! Who are you? I haven’t seen you 
before,” announced the visitor unstrapping a 
little portfolio she carried and taking out a 
water-color drawing-pad, on which were al- 
ready some patches of paint. Then the stran- 
ger opened her tiny water-bottle and dipping 
her brush began to sketch with an ease which 
proved her to be no novice at that business. 

The girl in the pulpit was too surprised to 
reply, but watched the young artist intently 


i8 Little Miss Evangeline 

till that person again lifted her eyes and 
bade : 

“Stand still. Don't move. I'm going to 
put you in. You'll give just the right touch 
of color to this dingy interior. But you may 
as well tell me your name. I haven't seen 
you before, and I thought I knew all the little 
greedies in the neighborhood." 

The tone was one of command, and Angel 
obeyed, though she qualified her information 
with the denial : 

“ I am not a ' greedy,' whoever else may be. 
I am Evangeline Brevard. I am an Acadian. 
I belong to Grand Pr6. I have just come 
* home,' and you — I suppose you are only a 
‘tourist.' What are you doing? And why 
mustn't I move ? " 

“Because I'm using you for a model. I'm 
painting you, and I'm sure I'm obliged to you 
for wearing that red frock. It's just the ‘ tone ' 
I needed. A picture that is all browns and 
grays isn't so attractive. Your dark head be- 
neath that odd old sounding-board is — really, 
it isn't at all bad." 

Something like patronage in this remark 
touched Angel's quick temper and she was 


A Contest of Nations 19 

down the pulpit stairs and in the very same 
box-pew with the girlish artist before the 
latter realized it. 

‘‘Hello! Quick as a flash, aren't you? 
Well, what do you think of it ? " 

Angel clasped her brown hands in an 
ecstasy of delight. Why, there it was on that 
bit of paper, the dear old church all over 
again I The broken plaster on the walls, the 
paintless pews and pillars, the ruined win- 
dows, the quaint pulpit, and — 

“ Heart of life I You have put me in it, 

you have I Part of me Oh I am I like 

that, just I, Angel Brevard ? " 

“Yes, you're like it, as far as you go. A 
half-finished Angel, you see. One arm miss- 
ing and a dot for a nose. So you're ‘ Evangel- 
ine ' ? I thought I was tired to death of 
that old story, the whole place is full of it, 
and she wasn't the only unhappy person in 
the world. I hate unhappiness. It's so 
much pleasanter to hear only about nice, 
comfortable things. But a new, little-girl- 
Evangeline, who looks as if she might have 
some fun in her, that's different. My name is 
Winifred Lawrence, and you're right in 


20 


Little Miss Evangeline 

guessing I’m a ^ tourist ’ from the * States.’ 
Which house do you live in ? ” 

The cunning little one that’s all covered 
with vines, and the roof so low behind that I 
can just stand under the eaves. I live with 
my great-grandmother, Mere Marie Brevard. 
Summer times, I mean. Winters I’m at my 
father’s, in Digby.” 

Do you like those children, out by the 
fence? ” 

'' Why, of course. I like, I guess I like 
everybody. Why shouldn’t I ? Only Mere 
Marie does not like them — not very well. 
She says they are of the race that exiled our 
people. But I’ve never minded before. Now 

I wish, I wish Hark ! The buckboards 

are coming ! The buckboards ! Oh 1 I must 
get to them first. I want to show them the 
church and get the money — I do, I do ! 
Help me, won’t you ? Tell the people it be- 
longs to me ! It’s my right, it’s for M^re 
Marie ! And I want every single penny I 
can get ! ” 

In sheer astonishment at the transformation 
in Angel’s face, Winifred dropped her brush 
and stared. Then she cried : 


A Contest of Nations 


21 


“ You horrid, selfish girl I No, I shall tell 
nobody anything. I hope they won’t give 
you a cent. They shan’t, if I can prevent it. 
I’m sorry I put you in my picture, and if it 
wasn’t for that red frock brightening it so, I’d 
rub you out altogether. You, an ‘ Evangel- 
ine ’ ! You’re a disgrace to your ' people.’ 
I’ve read all about them and whatever else 
they might have been they weren’t — pigs I ” 
Angel was so stunned by this unflattering 
retort that she stood speechless and motion- 
less. Even when the visitors from the first 
buckboard entered and swarmed over the 
ancient church, she merely glanced toward 
them and let Marian lead the way to the 
Visitors’ Book ” and incident “ tips ” with- 
out a protest. Besides, there lingered in her 
thought the name which the young stranger 
had given : ** Lawrence.” 

** Lawrence ! ” That was a name which 
every true “ Acadian ” should hold in execra- 
tion I 


CHAPTER II 


A MODEL TOURIST AND A TOURIST’s MODEL 

For a moment Angel could not speak. 
She was too angry. Then she retorted : 

I hope no human being could be a 
* pig/ but if there could it was that hateful 
great-great-great-grandfather of your own 
who exiled — my people ! All the world 
despises him ! History says so.’^ 

Several of the tourists had drawn near, 
attracted as much by Winifred’s work as by 
the voices of the two girls, but neither of 
these paid any attention to this fact. Angel 
was too disturbed to care and Winifred too 
used to flattering observation. The only 
child of wealthy parents, she had been a 
centre of attraction all her life and had so 
often been told that she was a “ genius ” that 
she fully believed it herself. Now she merely 
smiled at Angel’s excitement and kept on 
calmly sketching. Till, seeing her own like- 
ness rapidly growing under the artist’s brush, 
22 


A Model Tourist 


23 

the ** model ” suddenly leaned forward and 
knocked the brush aside. 

“ You shan’t put me in that picture I you 
must tear it up, right away, or I will do it 
myself. I hate you ! I hate everybody 
named — Lawrence. I wish you’d go away, 
out of my church, out of Gaspereau valley, 
away back to those horrid States where you 
came from ! You Oh 1 ” 

Words failing her, the excited Acadian 
flung herself down upon the bench beside her, 
and began to sob so wildly that Winifred 
leaned over the pew-back between them and 
stroked the shaking shoulders, exclaiming : 

What a queer, passionate little thing you 
are ! You do nothing by halves, not even 
your crying. As for hating — you don’t know 
what that means, nor quite what you’re talk- 
ing about. My just being a * Lawrence ’ has 
nothing to do with that old history fellow you 
studied about. He was the one who expelled 
the Acadians, wasn’t he ? I’m sorry I said 
that about ' pigs.’ It wasn’t a nice thing, and 
I’d like to be always nice — if I could remem- 
ber I I’ve simply been disgusted with those 
other children, almost begging for tips, and you 


24 Little Miss Evangeline 

looked different. Let’s be friends. If I hate 
anything it is quarreling. After I’ve done a 
little more I wish you’d take me to see that 
Mere Marie of yours. She must be very inter- 
esting. All you ‘ Bluehoses ’ are interesting, I 
think. Do you mind being called a ^ Blue- 
nose ’ ? ” 

Long before she ended her speech, Winifred 
had returned to her painting, the groups of 
sightseers had shifted about, some of the 
buckboards had driven onward to inspect the 
ruins of the original Grand Pr6, and others 
had deposited their loads within the old church 
grounds. 

The Melansons and Wyldes had reaped quite 
a harvest of small coins, and Angel could hear 
their voices loudly comparing results. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” she cried, “ my dreadful tem- 
per again ! I’m always losing good times, get- 
ting angry so quick, and now I’ve lost all that 
money ! Poor M^re Marie ! She’ll be so dis- 
appointed, and she won’t believe I care ! And 
I was going to help her so much, I was more 

eager than she, even ; and now Oh, 

dear ! Oh, dear I ” 

Angel hid her flushed face in her hands and 


A Model Tourist 


25 

again the tears came, but this time from real 
grief. 

‘‘ Well, I don't often lose my temper, it's so 
seldom worth while ; but I shall now if you 
don't stop crying. You interfere with my 
work and you're not a bit picturesque when 
you're red and — and sniffley. If you need the 
little bit of money those stingy tourists gave 
the other children, don't worry. I'll pay you 
better to be a model. Would fifty cents a 
^ sitting ' be enough ? Or a ‘ standing,' we 
might call it, for I should always want you to 
pose that way. You've a really exquisite little 
figure and as for your eyes — till you spoiled 
them crying — they're wonderful. All in all, 
you're a very pretty child, and I could do you 
in ever so many different ways. I adore 
working from a live model 1 " responded Wini- 
fred. 

This speech was like a foreign tongue to 
Evangeline Brevard, who had never heard 
any artistic talk " and who had certainly 
never dreamed that she was pretty. Nobody 
had ever told her so, or thought it, so far as 
she knew. However, there was one word 
among the many which fitted well with her 


26 


Little Miss Evangeline 


morning’s desires and that was “ money.” 
Was it possible that this other girl, not much 
older than herself, was willing to pay just for 
the sake of painting anybody ? It seemed in- 
credible ; but no stranger than the fact of the 
painting. She had always known that people 
from “ the States ” were different from her 
own Nova Scotians, but hitherto she had be- 
lieved them inferior. Now Well, neither 

Marian nor any Digby schoolmate could make 
a picture of that dear old church, and she felt 
humbled before Winifred’s great gift. So it 
was in a meek little voice, which she tried 
hard to keep from being eager, that she an- 
swered : 

I don’t know what you mean about fifty 
cents. Is it — have you got so much, all your 
own ? And would you give it to another girl 
just because she let you draw her ? ” 

“ Why, yes. At home, in Baltimore, I 
often get in a model from the streets, and I 
always pay fifty cents an hour. Mamma 
doesn’t like them very well, she’s so afraid I’ll 
* catch ’ something, like measles or whooping- 
cough, or scarlatina. But I’ve already ^ caught ’ 
everything a girl no older than I am could 


A Model Tourist 


27 


have. The cutest little * coon ^ — that^s a darky 
— gave me the chicken-pox ; and an Italian 
banana-boy the measles. He was just lovely ! 
I did him on a plaque, and Papa says he 
wouldnT sell that plaque for a thousand dol- 
lars. Papa is very appreciative. Much more 
so than Mamma. She thinks handling so 
many oil-colors is bad for my chest, though I 
like oils best. So, to please her, I use water- 
colors when I can. But Uncle and Aunt are 
nicer. They don’t care a bit what I do so 
long as I don’t interfere with their good time. 
That’s how I happen to be left here alone, at 
Wolfville, with only Ma’am ’Liza. They’ve 
gone to Halifax for a few days, but I don’t 
mind. Oh, dear ! There she comes now. 
But I shan’t stop. I shall not.” 

A big, comfortable looking colored woman 
now edged her way through a fresh crowd of 
tourists, toward the pew where her young mis- 
tress sat. She was spotlessly clad in white 
linen and her gray, woolly hair was topped by 
a stiffly-frilled white cap. Her dark face was 
gentle and motherly ; and her eyes, as they 
rested upon her young mistress, expressed 
both pride and tenderness. Also, they held a 


28 


Little Miss Evangeline 


look of anxiety ; and with some haste their 
owner now began to gather up the artistes ma- 
terials, regardless of Winifred's fretful protest: 

Now, Ma'am 'Liza, take care ! Don't you 
smear that wet drawing I I'm not half ready 
to go yet. I've only begun " 

“ Laws, honey, wheneve' was yo' ready ? 
But, my Ian' I Yo’ done do a heap dis 
mawnin', yo' sutney hab ! An', dis yere 
pretty lil gal, wheah yo' fin' dat modler at, 
honey ? " 

“ Ah I She is pretty, isn't she ? Even you 
see that ! And she's an ‘ Evangeline.' Think 
of that I Namesake of that other one we hear 
so much about. Wait, Ma'am 'Liza. Don’t 
carry off my hand-bag. My purse is in it, and 
I want to pay my model. Besides, we haven't 
made any appointment for another sitting. 
May I come back again, to-day. Ma'am 
'Liza?" 

No, honey. Not dis yere day. Got to 
hab yo' lunchin', den yo' massage, den yo' 
nap, den yo' dinnah, den yo' nudder nap, den 
yo' exumcise, den yo' suppah, den yo' baid. 
One dem paintin' times a day, yo' Pappy said, 
an' he's my boss." 


A Model Tourist 


29 


Ma^am ^Liza had restored the purse to 
Winifred, who took from it a half-dollar and 
carelessl}^ dropped it upon Angel’s palm, who 
stared at the coin in only half-belief that it 
could be real and her own. 

It seems wrong to take all that just for 
nothing, Winifred ! I — I’m afraid Mere Marie 
won’t like it. It’s almost like stealing or 
cheating. I ” 

But her words ended in a gasp of surprise. 
Ma’am ’Liza had quietly lifted the well-grown 
Winifred in her strong arms and was carrying 
the girl out of the church as if she had been a 
baby. Also, with a sigh of evident relief, the 
young artist had dropped her golden head 
upon her nurse’s shoulder, and submitted to 
this babying ” without a further protest. 
Then having carefully settled her mistress in 
the carriage which had brought them, Ma’am 
’Liza returned for the portfolio and crutches 
and hastily departed. 

How much ’d she give you ? I say, 
Angel, how much ? ” demanded Archie, shak- 
ing her to rouse her from her astonished gaz- 
ing. 

** What does it mean ? She walked in. She 


3 ° 


Little Miss Evangeline 

certainly did. I saw her. Such a big girl ! 
To let anybody carry her that way I I’d be 
ashamed.” 

“ No, you wouldn’t. You’d be glad of it. 
I’ve seen her. She’s been here before. There’s 
something the matter with her legs, or back, 
or something. But she’s so mean — how did 
she happen — you ought to give us part — 


Yes, you certainly ought, Angel Brevard ! 
A whole fifty-cent piece — and we got only fif- 
teen cents among us. Sandy says that ten of 
them belong to Ailsie and has set her crying 
after them. But if you’ll share, Angel, we’ll 
let her keep it,” added Marian, hastily break- 
ing in upon Archie’s argument. 

Now usually, Angel would have been quick 
to laugh and say : 

“ All right ! Let’s buy something nice and 
have a picnic I ” 

But, to-day, she merely closed her little 
brown hand tightly upon her treasure and 
rushed out of the church, heedless of collision 
with people entering it, and sped away across 
the fields to the vine-covered cottage, adjoin- 
ing the ancient smithy. 


A Model Tourist 


31 


Old as it was, this was not the shop made 
famous by Longfellow’s poem, though many 
visitors held that belief ; a belief which Grand- 
father Pierre Brevard never contradicted. 
Why should he ? He was old himself, seemed 
older even than Mere Marie, his mother, and 
if silly tourists cared to bestow their small 
coins upon him, just for sake of an old legend, 
what harm ? 

It was a much easier way of earning money 
than by shoeing the horses of the neighboring 
farmers, or mending broken ox-chains. Be- 
sides, what was Big Sandy Wylde for except 
to do his master’s work ? Even now this 
sturdy Scotchman was at the bellows, making 
the fire hot for the new tire of the low ox-cart 
waiting outside, and sometimes casting a 
glance toward the road by the old church. 
He was hoping that this would prove a good 
morning to his two children. Little Sandy 
was well enough. His bare feet were tough 
and it was easy to make clothes for him by 
simply cutting off the sleeves and legs from 
the father’s own cast-offs. But Ailsie was dif- 
ferent. The mother who now slept in the 
new grave in the old churchyard had kept her 


32 


Little Miss Evangeline 


wild-rose ” daintily. Though the little one’s 
pink frocks were of cheapest print they had 
never been ragged till now. Nor till now had 
she ever tried to go barefoot, like Sandy. But 
the trying had not been a success. Ailsie 
must have shoes ; and where to get them was 
the question wrinkling the brows of Big 
Sandy, at the bellows. 

Angel almost flew past the open door of the 
smithy, but not quite quickly enough to es- 
cape the notice of Grandfather Pierre, loung- 
ing there. He caught and held tight to the 
skirt of her red frock as he demanded : 

'' Ah, well ! What luck, grandchild ? And 
what was that talk I heard between you and 
my mother ? Of money it was. Tell grandpa, 
Angel.” 

I can’t, Grand-Pierre,” she answered, giv- 
ing him the childish name she had first 
learned to use. It is a secret, and — 
and ” 

She stopped in real distress. Dearly as she 
loved Mere Marie she loved Grand-Pierre far 
better. He it was who had taught her all the 
ways of the forest and the field. With him 
she had spent most of her summer days idling 


A Model Tourist 


33 


beside some stream, fish-line in hand, catching 
nothing, but listening to old tales and songs 
uttered in the patois French of her forefathers. 
M^re Marie and Big Sandy were always at 
work, but Grand-Pierre never. He was al- 
ways ready. Marian had said that old 
Pierre Brevard is the laziest man in the 
Gaspereau country.^’ But the laziness ” of 
her grandfather was adorable to Angel. 

What is that you say, little one ? A se- 
cret ? A secret ! From me, Grand-Pierre ? 
Why — Angel I 

The reproach in his tone hurt the girl 
keenly, but she had promised,’^ and with all 
joy in its possession gone from her, she hur- 
ried into the cottage and almost fiung the 
fifty-cent piece into Mere Marie^s lap. 

The old woman tossed her own withered 
hands in delight and held the coin out on her 
palm the better to inspect it. 

“ Thou hast done well, Evangeline. Great 
will be the honor when the end is gained. 
But all in one bit. A generous giver and the 
sort of stranger one would permit to stare, yes. 

After all, a tourist may be Hark, child I 

In the cupboard behind the chimney is a loose 


34 Little Miss Evangeline 

stone. Behind the stone a jar. Fetch it ; but 
now, yes, at once.^^ 

Mere Marie was so excited herself that she 
had to lean back on her chair and fan herself 
with her apron. But Angel was no longer 
either excited or happy. She would now far 
rather have been friends with Grand-Pierre 
than to have helped the scheme of Mere Marie, 
that had seemed so beautiful earlier in the 
day. 

But she found the jar and brought it, as di- 
rected. It was very heavy she noticed, and 
its contents jingled pleasantly. This treasure 
of M^re Marie must be great, then, and she 
wouldn’t have to keep her own knowledge of 
it a “ secret ” for very long. 

Is it there, in the chimney, you always 
keep it, dear Mere Marie ? Because the hole 
is pretty big and it might slip down out of 
sight, might it not? How much is in it. 
Grandmother-great ? ” she asked, as she car- 
ried the antique jar back across the living- 
room. 

Mere Marie passed her hand over her brows 
as if reflecting, then answered with a smile : 

“That I forget, but it is — it is Thou 



IT WAS VERY HEAVY 













A Model Tourist 


35 


shall count it for me, little Evangeline, you 
who have had the great schooling. By and 
by, but the dinner first. Put it back now. 
child.’’ 

As Angel turned from the fireplace she saw 
a dark face at the open back door of the cot- 
tage, and a pair of black eyes watching with 
great curiosity ; and again the weight of her 
first secret ” pressed upon her and made her 
sharply demand of the watcher : 

Well, what are you looking at, Charlie 
Micmac? ” 

“ Me ? Nothing. I — I come from the 
planting, I ” — yet it was a queer glance the 
Indian lad cast toward the chimney-corner as 
he took the pail from its shelf and went to the 
old well to fill it with water. 


CHAPTER III 


M^RE MARIE 

Big Sandy, when he had replaced the 
broken tire on the low-bodied ox-cart, slipped 
the yoke over the horns of the oxen, browsing 
near, hitched them to the cart and drove them 
down the lane to the road beyond. It seemed 
but part of his business that, having finished 
his work at the forge, he should himself re- 
turn his patron’s team. 

Besides, he had an object in this trip. The 
team belonged to farmer Melanson, and Mrs. 
Melanson went often to the little town of 
Wolfville, a few miles distant, upon errands 
for her household. She had been a good 
neighbor and had often set a stitch ” for 
motherless Ailsie or Sandy. She had helped 
Mere Marie in the nursing of Big Sandy’s 
frail wife and he had learned to lean upon her 
then, for counsel and comfort. 

But thrifty, active Mrs. Melanson had no 
36 


Mdre Marie 


37 

patience left for this too-patient, much-endur- 
ing Scotchman ; and when he had asked : 

Will you buy the new shoes for the bairn, 
Ailsie?” she had answered, with keen dis- 
gust : 

Of course, Sandy Wylde, I will do that 
and much more if it is needed. But it isn’t. 
Here are we short of hands for the summer’s 
work and yet you will not throw up your job 
at Brevards’ and come to work for us. With 
us you’re sure of your good pay and food, and 

that lazy blacksmith Huh ! Does he 

ever pay you at all ? ” 

Oh I yes. Betimes. Summat. ’Tis Mere 
Marie who handles most of the wage, and if 
she thinks — sometimes she does think and 
remember — why, then, it’s fair enough. As 
for leaving, Mrs. Melanson — I dinna ken. 
We are very comfortable in our three rooms, 
the bairns and me; and ’twas in them Janet 
and me set up the home. She loved them. 
She aye loved them week In the little garden 
are briar roses came over-seas in the parcel 
sent by Janet’s sister. The mere slip of a 
cutting it was, but she cherished it, till now 
there’s not another briar-bush its like in all 


38 Little Miss Evangeline , 

this valley. You see, Janet^s own father was 
head gardener to a great laird and ’twas a 
come-down when she took up with me, a 
smithes apprentice lad. She 

Mrs. Melanson waved her hand and cut the 
long story short. 

“ Yes, Big Sandy, I know. And I’ll get the 
shoes ; but I do wish you’d pluck up spirit 
enough to do better for yourself. It’s no use 
being sentimental over Janet and her rose-bush. 
Nova Scotia’s fuller of roses than ever old 
Scotland was, and there are the living chil- 
dren to care for, rather than the dead wife.” 

Big Sandy was slow of wit and slower of 
action. All the brightness had been Janet’s, 
and he had never ceased to wonder that she 
had willingly cast her lot with his own. To 
hear her now spoken of so carelessly hurt him 
and did more to injure Mrs. Melanson’s own 
project of hiring him than she could guess. 
She had not meant to be unkind, she merely 
wished to instil a bit of good sense into his 
dull brain and to secure his great physical 
strength to aid in the farm haying and har- 
vesting. 

“ Where shall I leave the team. Mistress 


Mere Marie 


39 


Melanson ? ” he asked after a moment, as the 
farmer's wife was stepping into the tidy little 
runabout which now drew up, ready for her 
shopping trip. 

Oh ! Whistle for Archie. He should be 
somewhere around. You step in with me 
and ride home. It's a warm pull back to the 
forge, and you may as well save yourself while 
you may." 

But Sandy did not accept the invitation. 
He merely gee-hawed the oxen toward the 
distant barn and smiled a little as the farm 
wife half-fretfully, half-laughingly, snapped 
her whip, exclaiming : 

“ You won't, eh ? I suppose you think I'd 
argue you into doing as I want. I declare 
you're the first man I ever knew who neglected 
his own interests. Step up, Judge ! Fetch 
'em out ! " 

The spirited young horse proceeded to step 
up I " and fetch 'em out ! " in a manner 
creditable to himself and his mistress's driv- 
ing, and Big Sandy looked after them as they 
passed down the dusty road, puzzled and 
troubled. 

Yon's a differ woman from Janet. A good 


40 Little Miss Evangeline 

woman. Aye, a very good. But my Ailsie — 
could I bear Ailsie grown that sort? Yet, 
am I right or am I wrong, as that mistress 
said ? Tis a man’s part to earn the keep, and 

though I work hard Well, well ! Not 

this day need I say it. Ailsie is but a bit bairn 
still, and Mere Marie has ways I like. I’ll 
bide. Aye, for a spell I’ll bide and see.” 

He paced slowly back to the smithy in the 
same deliberate manner he brought to every- 
thing ; and once there found a buckboard full 
of strangers waiting. A horse had lost a 
shoe and a wagon-bolt had loosened ; and the 
impatient tourists fretted at the necessary de- 
lay. A few wandered about the cottage 
grounds, admired the ancient well-sweep, 
coolly plucked bits of old-man ” or poppies 
from Mere Marie’s garden — uninvited, and 
even entered the old shop itself, to poke about 
and sadly interrupt Sandy’s labors, though he 
answered nothing to their “ senseless ” ques- 
tions. 

He had barely finished his task and the vis- 
itors were leaving him in peace when there 
fiashed out of the house beyond a girl in a red 
frock, her face white with excitement. Rudely 


M^re Marie 


41 

pushing right and left she made her way to 
Big Sandy, and catching his black hands 
sought to drag him backward with her. 

Come, come quick ! Ailsie — M6re Marie 

— Charlie Micmac — Grand-Pierre — gone 

Come, Sandy, come ! 

At the word Ailsie,” the smith had, in- 
deed, appeared to hasten his movements, but 
at the added names he hesitated, untied his 
leather apron and began to wash his grimy 
hands in the basin of water, always standing 
outside the door. 

This was too much for Angel, who could 
not bear an instant^s delay. 

Oh, do come at once,” she cried, and 
knocked the basin over, thus preventing any 
further cleaning ” on Sandy’s part. The big 
smith began to realize that something beyond 
Angel’s usual impulsiveness was at the bottom 
of this, and followed her headlong flight back 
into the cottage. 

What he beheld there seemed not greatly 
out of common, though the Indian lad stood 
as if transfixed with a kettle in his hands, 
and little Ailsie was crying in a corner, 
while little Sandy crouched outside the 


42 Little Miss Evangeline 

door. Yet at sound of his heavy footsteps 
Mere Marie tottered toward him, her hands 
outstretched before her and her voice strangely 
changed and querulous. 

“ Is it Big Sandy comes ? Get the light, 
man, the light ! Why should one make it 
dark like this ? Pierre, Sandy, my Angel ! 

“ Yes, yes. Grandmother-great I I’m here, 
right here. Can’t you see me ? Feel, feel ! 
Here I put your hands on my head — let them 
rest, stop waving them so dreadfully — Big 
Sandy’s come, it’ll all be right in a minute. 
O Mere Marie, sweet Mere Marie I what is it 
ails you ? ” 

Sandy guessed the truth. Like all others 
in that countryside, he had long marveled 
that Mere Marie showed so few signs of her 
great age. But, so long had she lived and so 
buoyantly, that it had almost seemed as she 
were exempt from the common ills of life. But 
now it had come. She was stricken at last. 

With great tenderness the smith slipped his 
arm about the old woman’s body and carried 
it to the high-backed chair beside the window, 
the one placed where she loved to sit, when 
her activity permitted her to idle thus. 


M^re Marie 


43 


Rest a bit, Mere Marie. The blindness 
may pass, as Angel says. Hush, Ailsie, bairn. 
Why do you cry ? And Charlie Micmac, 
have you learned no better manners from this 
dame that you stand with your mouth open like 
a fish ? Go on, get the dinner ! Tis nought 
but a — a slight stroke, or summat. Bar the 
door, Angel. No need for strangers to see all 
the happenings of a woman’s household.” 

There was comfort in Big Sandy’s calm 
voice, and though Angel still sobbed from 
fright and grief, she obeyed the smith’s sug- 
gestion so thoroughly that the few tourists 
who had followed her to the cottage door, 
fearing some tragedy, now found themselves 
promptly shut out. 

But they had tarried long enough to guess 
at the disaster ; and upon their return to 
their hotel to report : 

That very old woman, who claims to be 
one of the original Acadians and who lives at 
the old blacksmith-shop, has been taken ill. 
It seems a pity. She was one of the sights of 
Grand Pr6 and she’ll be missed. There was 
a pretty little girl there who seemed dis- 
tracted but had the impudence to shut the 


44 Little Miss Evangeline 

door square in our faces when we would have 
been only too glad to help her.'' 

What ? What is that you say ? " suddenly 
demanded a girlish voice from a small, 
private table in the cosiest corner of the big 
room. 

Hush, honey. Dat ain' no perlite way 
oh hollerin' out. What yo' Ma say, if she 
done heah yo' ? Dem ladies wasn' a talkin' 
to you-all ! " warned Ma'am 'Liza from be- 
hind her young mistress's chair. For in all 
their journey ings no other person was allowed 
to serve her beloved Miss Winnie, and hotel 
rules had to be set aside in her case. “ You 
mus' eat yo' lunchin', lessen yo'll be too sick 
to paint dem pictahs. Yo' sutney will." 

Ma'am 'Liza, be quiet. I'm not hungry 
and I have eaten. All I want, anyway. Go 
you and ask that lady, since you won't let 
me, what she means about Mere Marie. 
That's the Acadian little Evangeline lives 
with. The girl I painted. If she's in trouble 
I must go to her. Hurry and ask." 

Laws, honey. Why do yo' boddah ? 
Finish yo' lunchin', den come take yo’ nap." 

Winifred fretfully pushed back her chair 


M^re Marie 


45 


and tried to rise, but this was one of her weak 
days and she sank back in it, helplessly. So 
that, with a sigh at her darling’s wilfulness. 
Ma’am ’Liza carried her to the larger table, 
where Mere Marie was being discussed. 

“ Please tell me about that old Acadian 
woman, Madam,” begged Winifred, with a 
smile ; and glad to impart a bit of gossip, the 
lady whom Angel had shut out from the cot- 
tage narrated what she had seen, and added 
what she had guessed. 

She claims to have been one of the origi- 
nal ' exiles,’ so I’ve been told, though, of 
course, that’s impossible. However, she cer- 
tainly is extremely old and it’s perfectly 
natural that she should break down at last. 
Some sort of stroke, I fancy, and she has sud- 
denly gone blind. A little girl there acted 
half-wild with distress and fiercely angry 
with us all for merely looking in. She shut 
the door in our faces, though we’d have 
offered our help, had she waited a moment.” 

Thank you. She was worried of course. 
And then, you know, it isn’t pleasant to have 
one’s weakness stared at, and she — she is a friend 
of mine. I am going to her right away.” 


46 


Little Miss Evangeline 

With this reminder that she might herself 
be sensitive to the curious glances which al- 
ways followed her, long accustomed to them 
though she was, Winifred bade Ma’am ’Liza 
carry her out of the room. The stranger she 
had thus reproved looked after her with even 
greater curiosity, and remarked to her table 
neighbor : 

“ I can’t make myself believe that there’s a 
thing the matter with that girl, she looks so 
well grown and healthy. Nothing the mat- 
ter but laziness, now, though there might 
have been in the beginning. That old colored 
woman seems to worship her, but she can’t 
live forever, and it’s a shame, anyway, to im- 
pose such a burden upon any human being. 
If she was a poor girl instead of such a rich 
one she’d find a difference, and I don’t won- 
der her uncle and aunt went away for a rest.” 

Oh ! I don’t know as it was that. They 
are very fond of the girl. She can be ex- 
tremely winning — when she chooses ! Mr. 
and Mrs. Lawrence are making a tour of the 
world, for the benefit of his health, so I un- 
derstand ; and it’s at their expense that this 
uncle and wife, the Winslows, are to spend 


M^re Marie 


47 


the summer in Nova Scotia. They are at 
liberty to leave Winifred at any place that 
agrees with her health, with Ma’am ’Liza in 
charge, while they jaunt about between times. 
It’s all right, I guess, for she seems well 
enough, except her lameness. Poor child ! 
Wealth doesn’t count for much in her case,” 
was the gentle rejoinder. 

But if these observers could have followed 
Ma’am ’Liza and her charge to their own 
apartments, they would have witnessed a 
stormy scene. From the couch where she 
had been placed the girl was vehemently de- 
claring : 

I shall certainly go. Who are you to stop 
me. I’d like to know, you — you old Ma’am 
’Liza? I’ve fallen in love with that little 
girl you saw in the church. She’s as pretty 
as a real Angel, like they call her, and she’s 
dreadfully poor. She must be, because fifty 
cents seemed a wonderful amount to her. It’s 
like a romance out of a story-book. I’m cer- 
tainly going, so you may as well order a car- 
riage, unless you prefer to carry me, yourself ! 
I shall — do — as — I — please ! ” 

Having worked herself into a state not very 


48 Little Miss Evangeline 

common with her, Winifred began to cry ; and 
at this poor Ma’am ’Liza gave way entirely. 
Tears were unusual to her beloved charge and 
a paroxysm like this was more to be feared 
than even over-fatigue. 

“ Well, well, honey. If yo’ mus’ yo’ mus’ I 
An’ dere’s de end oh it. I done do all I can 
again’ it an’ if yo’ Pa or Ma blame Ma’am ’Liza 
I’m gwine tell ’em ’twas deir own Law’ency 
tempah what-all yo’ inhe’ited.’* 

And with more indignation in her manner 
than she often showed. Ma’am ’Liza rang a 
bell and ordered a carriage, for Winifred’s 
drive back to Grand Pre. 


CHAPTER IV 


ANGEL HAS VISITORS 

At the soft tap-tapping of rubber-tipped 
crutches upon the stones before the cottage 
door, Angel lifted her frightened eyes and 
stared. She had been sitting on the sill, her 
face buried in her hands, feeling that if she 
shut out all ordinary sights she might better 
understand this strange thing that had be- 
fallen ; and with such a trouble in her heart 
as was almost unbearable. 

Here was that painter-girl again ! probably 
she had come to get back that fifty cents, so 
extravagantly bestowed, and a fresh dismay 
sent the little Acadian to her feet, exclaim- 
ing : 

“ I^m so sorry, but I havenT got — I mean, 
I gave — and I hate to ask her for it, now. I 

knew it couldn’t be truly real, that a girl ” 

What in the world are you talking 
about?” demanded Winifred, with a puzzled 
smile. Now that she had gotten her own way 
49 


50 Little Miss Evangeline 

and come, upon what Ma^am ^Liza called “ dis 
yere wild-goose chase, she was charmingly 
amiable. 

The money. I'm so sorry. I said I gave 

it to Mere Marie, and I Oh ! she's so 

strange ! All at once she can't see and she 
doesn't move. She just sits in her chair and 
keeps her hands tight folded, and even when 
Big Sandy tried to make her eat her porridge 
she wouldn't open her lips. I've never seen 
her like that, and I don't know what to do." 

I can tell you. The first thing is either 
to bring me a chair or make room for me be- 
side you on the door-sill. Don't be silly about 
any money, if you mean the trifle I paid you 
for posing ; and I thought the woman at the 
hotel said you were in dreadful trouble. I 
couldn't wait till I came to see. But it's so 
quiet, she must have dreamed it." 

** I beg your pardon. Of course. I'll bring 

it, unless Will you come inside and see 

her ? Maybe you could tell me what to do, 
and though she doesn't like ^ tourists ' she 
couldn't help liking you, you're so sweet," 
answered Angel, with an honest admiration 
which had no flattery in it. 


51 


Angel Has Visitors 

And because this was so different from that 
which commonly surrounded her, Winifred 
was touched, and leaning forward kissed her 
new friend, saying : 

The sweetness is all in your eyes and 
words, Angel. If you’d seen me a little while 
ago you couldn’t have called me sweet. I was 
horrid. But do tell me what has happened, 
and I’ll love to see Mere Marie if she’s able.” 

When they had gone into the living-room 
where the old Frenchwoman sat, Winifred 
stepped forward and touching the kerchief- 
covered shoulder, bade Mere Marie a cheerful : 

Good-afternoon, Madame. I’m so pleased 
to know you. I already know Evangeline. 
I’m the girl from the States, whom she met in 
the church, this morning.” 

Mere Marie’s eyes were wide open, but to 
Angel they seemed sadly altered. Already 
they were suffused with moisture and had the 
bleared indistinctness of extreme age. Indeed, 
the venerable creature had changed in all out- 
ward appearance as she had mentally. If she 
heard Winifred’s words she did not answer 
them, though she did once raise her wrinkled 
hand and wave it about in a groping sort of 


52 


Little Miss Evangeline 

way, that set Angel crying and made even this 
stranger turn away her face in pity. 

“ Let’s go out. I can’t bear it in here, with 
Mere Marie so different,” cried Angel after a 
moment ; “ there’s a nice seat under the tree 
by the well, that Grand-Pierre made — and — 
and — he’s gone away. We can’t find him 
anywhere. Not anywhere at all, though Big 
Sandy and Little Sandy, and I, and Charlie 
Micmac have looked for him everywhere. 
You see, he was hurt because I couldn’t tell 
him about that money, or our secret — Mere 
Marie’s and mine — and I want him back.” 

Ma’am ’Liza had settled herself comfortably 
on the carriage cushions, and the small boy 
who drove for her had taken out a book and 
begun to read. Seeing them so well content 
to wait, Winifred forgot her promise to “ stay 
just a few minutes,” and set herself to find out 
all about her new friend’s life. 

Who is Grand-Pierre ? Who is Charlie 
Micmac? And why should there be a Big 
and Little Sandy ? Wouldn’t one Sandy do 
in a cottage like this ? What odd names you 
do have, all of you ! ” 

“ Do we ? And who they are 


Why, 


53 


Angel Has Visitors 

that everybody knows, I should think, since 
they’ve always been,” answered Angel, feeling 
herself greatly comforted by the evident sym- 
pathy of this wonderful visitor. 

Winifred had tossed her crutches to the 
ground and leaned back on the bench, care- 
less that she might thus soil her snowy frock, 
as the other warned her. Angel, indeed, had 
one white frock of her very own, but not for 
ordinary wear. It had been bought, after 
great calculation and pricing of goods at the 
Digby stores, for her confirmation and first 
communion, and she held it sacred. She 
would never in the world have leaned its 
tucked and beruffied fairness against such 
a weather-stained thing as that garden 
bench ! 

“ Oh ! never mind my clothes ! This is 
just an ordinary, plain tub-frock. Tell me 
about your people.” 

Well, then, Grand-Pierre is Why, he’s 

just Mr. Pierre Brevard. He is the son of our 
great-grandmother. He’s the father of my 
father. Sounds funny, doesn’t it ? He is the 
blacksmith who owns that forge, but Big- 
Sandy is the real smith and shoes the horses 


54 Little Miss Evangeline 

and things. Big Sandy is Little Sandy’s 
father, and he’s much nicer than his boy. 
Little Sandy is horrid, sometimes. Some- 
times, he’s decent, but such an eater ! Believe 
me, he cannot be a gentleman, he is so greedy. 
But Ailsie is the sweetest ! She is Big Sandy’s 
little bairn. Her mother, Janet Wylde, is 
dead. I took some flowers to her grave be- 
hind the old church this morning. She was, 
always sick, but she was nice ; almost as nice 
as Big Sandy himself. He has been very 
sober since she went to stay in the church- 
yard. He has worked for my grandfather al- 
ways, I guess. I don’t remember when he 
didn’t. Other people often try to hire him 
away from us, but he just loves Mere Marie I 
O Winifred, isn’t it dreadful ! ” 

'‘That he should love her, dear? No, I’m 
not making fun. I know exactly what you 
mean and feel. But let’s hope she’ll be’ a 
great deal better by to-morrow. Such a won- 
derful old lady as everybody says she is surely 
must get well. Why don’t you say ‘ Grand- 
father,’ instead of ‘ Grand-Pierre ’ ? Doesn’t 
seem respectable to call such an old man by 
his first name ; I mean respectful.” 


Angel Has Visitors 55 

'' Doesn’t it? I’ve always called him that. 
He likes it, and he is so dear.” 

Then I suppose it’s all right. But 
who is Charlie Micmac? Sounds like one 
of those Indians that used to be in Grand 
Prg.” 

He is, he is I How quick you are to 
guess. He’s an Indian boy, whose folks are 
all dead. Mere Marie took him when he was 
a baby, a papoose, and he works for her same 
as Big Sandy does for Grand-Pierre. He 
keeps the fire, and brings the wood, and makes 
the garden, and helps to cook the dinner. 
He’s older than I am. He’s always been, too, 
just like Big Sandy. I don’t like him as well 
as I do some of the rest. I like him some, 
course, ’cause he belongs, same’s we all do ; 
but he’s got some not nice ways, you see. He 
teases Ailsie and he teaches Little Sandy tricks. 
Queer ! Sandy’s so stupid at his letters and 
so quick at the things he shouldn’t know, 
like worrying the chickens and trapping the 
woodsy creatures. Oh ! I hate to have liv- 
ing things hurt ! Don’t you ? ” 

“Yes. I suppose so. I never thought. But 
where has your grandfather gone ? And do 


56 Little Miss Evangeline 

all the Wyldes live in this little cottage with 
you ? Where are they now ? 

Oh ! what an asker you are ! You’re as 
bad as I am ; and the teacher said it would 
‘ puzzle a lawyer ’ to keep all my questions 
answered. But I want to know things, now, 
since I’ve begun to learn more. W^hy some- 
times it should be hot and sometimes cold ; 
why the flowers come in the spring and go 

away in the winter : why Oh, dear I the 

world is just full of ' whys,’ and nobody to 
answer half of them. And, beg pardon, I’m 
no answerer either, am I? I don’t know 
where Grand-Pierre has gone and it breaks 
my heart. We love each other so, he and I ; 
and he just adores Mere Marie. He couldn’t 
have guessed she was going to be ill or he 
never, never would have left her. But then, 
you see, he didn’t know. She has never been 
like this before, never. Big Sandy thinks he 
has gone off* with some tourist men from the 
States. Some of them are always teasing him 
to go and ^ guide ’ them through the woods, 
fishing, or hunting, and he likes it. There 
was a buckboard of that sort of men stopped 
at the shop. Big Sandy said, while I was in 


57 


Angel Has Visitors 

with MSre Marie, putting away the money ; 
and he may have gone away with them with- 
out saying a word to us. Oh ! I hope it’s only 
that ! And I wish — I wish he would come 
back ! ” 

Winifred drew Angel to her side and com- 
forted her. 

Oh ! of course, he’ll come. Grown folks 
don’t do things that way. A child might, 
but not a man, you know, and a man old 
enough to be a grandfather.” 

“ Yes, but — but Mrs. Melanson says Grand- 
Pierre is nothing but a ^ grown-up child.’ 
That’s the very way she said it. She’s a ter- 
ribly smart woman, Mrs. Melanson is. She’s 
so clever she makes Big Sandy worry when 
she comes to look over his housekeeping. 
He and his bairns live in the rooms behind 
the forge. Janet died there and she used to 
keep them so neat. Mere Marie said a body 
could eat off of Janet’s floors, if they wanted 
to, and not get their food a speck dirty. Mere 
Marie is neat, too. I’m always ’most afraid 
to touch things lest I get them messed or out of 
place. But Oh, there comes Mrs. Melan- 

son this minute, driving home from Wolfville. 


58 Little Miss Evangeline 


Maybe she can help poor Mere Marie, and tell 
us what to do/' 

The lady certainly did appear to be ex- 
tremely capable ; for she halted Judge exactly 
beside the hitching-ring in the smithy wall, 
sprang out, snapped the horse's fastening- 
strap, swept an arm full of parcels from the 
runabout and advanced upon the girls beside 
the old well — all in one instant, as it seemed 
to Winifred. 

What's this I hear, Evangeline?" she de- 
manded, in such a brisk tone that it seemed 
an accusation of guilt on Angel's part, and 
made Winifred clasp the girl even more ten- 
derly. 

About — about dear Mere Marie, do you 
mean, Mrs. Melanson ? " 

Certainly, what else should I mean ? Is 
«he within ? " and without waiting reply, the 
farm wife whisked into the cottage and the 
presence of her venerable neighbor, with a 
crisp : Well, what have you been doing to 
yourself, Mere Marie Brevard ? " 

There was something so commanding in the 
question that the old dame's wandering wits 
came partially back to her. At least she was 


59 


Angel Has Visitors 

able to speak and she turned her sightless eyes 
in the direction of the speaker with an implor- 
ing gesture : 

Let them out of the church I Our men, 
our sons, and fathers, and husbands ! How 
dare you I And — and Oh ! the wail- 
ing I the wailing of my people I Let them 
go, I tell you, let them go I or the curse of 
heaven on you ! ” 

These words which set the girls trembling, 
had no such effect upon Mrs. Melanson. 

“ Crazy as a loon. Worse than ever, and 
she’s always been daft, poor thing I Well, 
I’ve looked for this to happen, this many a 

day. Now it has come What are you 

going to do, Evangeline ? Where is your 
grandfather? ” 

“ Oh ! I don’t know, I don’t know I ” 

Mrs. Melanson paused to consider, and 
Winifred asked : 

“ What does Mere Marie mean by that 
^ Let them out of the church ! ’ Is she really 
crazy ? ” 

It is many years since she has been sane, 
I believe. She’s had wonderful health and has 
been a good housekeeper. She’s been the only 


6o 


Little Miss Evangeline 

one to make any money out of the shop and 
she's held on to all that was made. What 
she's done with it, nobody can guess, for the 
little farm has about kept them all. Charlie 
Micmac has run that for her — run it at the 
end of a sharp stick, you might say, for though 
she’s been kind to him she’s made him earn 

his keep. Sandy Wylde Oh I I’ve no 

patience with that man ! Though now — why 
now ” 

The lady paused and her face brightened. 
She was thinking that, since this disaster to 
the cottage household. Big Sandy would be 
forced to seek another home, since this one 
would, of course, be broken up. But again 
Winifred inquired : 

You did not tell me about her meaning. 
What is it? ” 

Why, nothing ; except that she’s studied 
the story of the old Acadians so much that 
she fancies their expulsion from Grand Pre is 
happening now, or has just happened. That’s 
the subject she’s been crazy about and, lately, 
she’s had another fancy that she is destined 
to bring them all back again. Bring them 
back, indeed I When they were dust and 


Angel Has Visitors 6i 

ashes a hundred or more years ago. A good 
thing, too, else this valley would not have 
been the prosperous spot it is to-day. But 
there 1 I’m almost as bad as Mere Marie her- 
self, when we talk of those old times. She’s 
angered me so often with her nonsense. 
However, that’s neither here nor there. 
Evangeline, can you write ? ” 

Why, of course ! I’ve been to school — 
lots of days ! ” 

Well, don’t feel set up if you have. My 
children have been at school more than you, 
but I’d not set them to writing an important 
letter. You must go home with me and I’ll 
furnish you with paper and envelope, for I 
don’t suppose there’s such a thing in this 
house, and you must send word at once to 
your folks in Digby. They must come and 
take Mere Marie away. It isn’t fit for her to 
stay here even till they can get to her. If it 
wasn’t such a busy season with us I’d take 
you both to the farm for the time being, but 
I’ve got Grandma Melanson on my hands, al- 
ready, and if she isn’t crazy, she’s bed-ridden, 
and that’s almost worse. Where’s Big Sandy ? 
I didn’t see him at the forge. Run and find 


62 


Little Miss Evangeline 

him and just untie Judge. 1^11 look in the 
pantry and see if there’s anything fit to eat 
left for Mere Marie, and if there isn’t you can 
bring something back with you. I’ll ring the 
bell for the men.” 

Lifting the big bell that always stood on a 
little shelf within the back-room door, the 
matron swung it lustily to and fro. It was 
the usual summons for the household, when 
absent from the cottage, but nobody obeyed 
it now. Even a second and third ringing 
brought no response, and by that time Mrs. 
Melanson’s time and patience were exhausted, 
and she returned to the main room, remarking : 

Well, I can wait no longer. You can 
uncover your ears. Miss Lawrence. I shan’t 
ring again. And Evangeline, why haven’t 
you loosed Judge and brought him round? 
You’re not afraid of him, I know that ; a girl 
that’s even tried to shoe a horse herself! ” and 
with a laugh and tap of the shoulder, meant 
to be wholly kind, the lady passed on. 

Angel did not follow ; but Winifred picked 
up her crutches and hurried outward. 

Don’t you think we should have a doctor, 
Mrs. Melanson, please ? ” 


63 


Angel Has Visitors 

With her foot on the wagon step the other 
looked round and shook her head. She was 
surprised at this stranger's interest in a queer 
old woman, but there was no need for a 
physician's services. 

“ No, indeed. It would be a waste of 
money, and they've none to spare. He 
couldn't help Mere Marie, and — I hope she 
won't live long. It will be a relief now 
when she goes. They're a shiftless lot, all of 
these ^ Acadians,' old or young. Why doesn't 
Evangeline come ? Do you know ? It's 
saucy of her to keep me waiting." 

For a moment Winifred did not speak. 
Mrs. Melanson's common sense view of affairs 
struck her as extremely cruel. To hope for 
anybody's death Why, that was mur- 

der ! And with a haughty toss of her fair 
head she answered : 

No, I don't know. But don't trouble 
about Angel. I will care for her I " 


CHAPTER V 


ANGELAS CHARGE 

As Mrs. Melanson drove away, Winifred 
beckoned to Ma'am 'Liza, and that patient 
creature ventured to suggest ; 

Yo' come de res' de way, honey, same's 
yo' hab so fur." 

I'm not asking you to come and carry 
me. I want you, here, for I'm going to 
stay." 

Ma'am 'Liza climbed out backward from 
the surrey, finding it a tight squeeze for her 
portly body between the seats, and advanced, 
protesting : 

Now, honey, chile, quit yo' foolin'. You 
done gotten yo' ride stidder yo' nap, an' dat's 
shuah ernuf Say good-bye to dem folkses in 
yondah an' we'll be gettin' home to ouah 
hotel." 

The motherly woman was not prepared to 
have her neck clasped and her own sympathy 
appealed to by her young mistress's eager- 
ness : 


64 


Angel’s Charge 


65 


** Dear Ma^am ^Liza, it’s the saddest thing I 
ever knew I You must come and help. 
That very old lady has gone crazy, Mrs. 
Melanson said so, and there isn’t a soul about 
the place except just little Angel. No doctor, 
nor anybody, though we’ll send that boy back 
after one right away. Isn’t it a lucky thing 
we came ? And aren’t you sorry you tried to 
prevent it? You go right in while I send for 
the doctor.” 

“ How-come yo’ know dey want him, 
honey?” 

There isn’t any ‘ they ’ here. There’s 
only that one poor, frightened girl, I tell you. 
Everybody else seems to have disappeared at 
the first bit of trouble, and we mustn’t leave 
her till somebody comes, who belongs here.” 

Ma’am ’Liza obeyed, her own warm heart 
moved by Winifred’s story, and Angel looked 
up from Mere Marie’s side, where she had 
stationed herself in a fear that they were to be 
forcibly separated and at once. 

She mustn’t be taken away ! She must 
not. It would kill her. Grand-Pierre has 
said so, many and many a time. Oh I if he 
would only come ! ” 


66 


Little Miss Evangeline 

Laws, honey, doan^ yo’ fret. Teahs like 
dey was trouble ernuf widout borryin' mo’. 
Ma’am ’Liza’s usen to sick folkses, mighty 
usen, an’ she ain’ come fo’ nothin’ but kind- 
ness. Po’ old creatah, whe’s yo’ misery at? ” 
said the nurse, laying a gentle hand upon the 
thin shoulder of Mere Marie. 

My eyes. Somebody has tied something 
over my eyes. I cannot see, and it’s cruel, 
cruel I With my old father waiting in the 
church I We could all flee to the woods if 
only I could see ! The Indians are our 
friends, our own. We’ve fed them, clothed 
them, nursed them. They love us. Let me 
go ! Oh ! let me go ! ” 

Winifred had hurried within and once 
more stood beside the terrified Angel, who 
recognized in the stricken dame’s speech that 
craziness ” which Mrs. Melanson had treated 
so indifferently, and that seemed so terrible 
to her. She remembered having once seen a 
maniac being carried through the Digby 
streets to an asylum, and having been told 
that he was dangerous ” to the lives of other 
people ; and though, at first, the idea of Mere 
Marie’s being in similar state had not oc- 


Angel’s Charge 67 

curred to her, it had done so now and frozen 
her with horror. 

But there was no similarity between this 
lapse of poor Mere Marie and that other 
afflicted creature, and soon Ma’am ’Liza had 
succeeded in comforting her. With a nurse’s 
instinct she had seen that to humor that notion 
of bandaged eyes was the quickest way of 
soothing her patient. Pretending to remove 
the fancied bandage she comforted : 

Now, den, honey, dat’s off an’ gone. Yo’ 
jes’ leave ’Liza be. She’s done gwine tie on a 
nice, fresh one, all scentin’ up wid cologny 
watah. Den she’s gwine he’p yo’ lie down a 
spell, till all dem folkses comes outen deir 
chu’ch, an’ home again. Now, ain’ dat 
bettah, honey ? ” 

From the small hand-bag she always carried 
she took a bottle of cologne and deluged her 
own spotless handkerchief, and this she bound 
about Mere Marie’s brows, carefully avoiding 
contact with the sightless eyes. 

Ah ! That is good, yes. By and by, 
when the light comes back or the candle is 
brought, we’ll take it off. Yes, indeed, then. 
Is my son Pierre in the shop ? Or little 


68 


Little Miss Evangeline 

Angel, no? You would know her by the 
color of her eyes. The Brevard eyes. They’re 
all alike. We brought them with us from old 
France. But they — they get tired, some- 
times. I think I will sleep and rest them. Beg 
pardon, excusez, I ” 

She stopped speaking and feebly rose from 
her chair, putting out her hands to guide 
herself ; but far more easily than she could 
have carried big Winifred, Ma’am ’Liza carried 
the frail body of this old, old lady and laid it 
upon the bed in the inner room. Then, as if 
she were going to sing a babe to sleep, she sat 
down beside the bed and began to croon the 
lullabies of her own southern home to this 
northern stranger. 

By this time the fear had left Angel’s heart. 
Nobody could be really “ crazy ” who was so 
gentle as Mere Marie was now, nor did that 
motherly black woman act as if there was any- 
thing really the matter. She remembered, too, 
that sometimes Grand-Pierre had sung to his 
mother. That was on the days when she had 
grown what he called '‘restless and home- 
sick,” and she, Angel, had escaped from the 
cottage because she did not like to listen to 


69 


Angel’s Charge 

his cracked, hoarse voice. He claimed that 
he had once been a beautiful singer, and that 
his song heard over the waters of Minas Basin 
had charmed great swarms of fish to his net. 

That must have been true, of course. 
Grand-Pierre had said it; but it must also 
have been very, very long ago ! 

But while Ma^am Liza’s singing was delight- 
ing her with its minor sweetness, came the 
sound of wheels. Angel looked out of the 
window. 

“ Why, there is the doctor man from Wolf- 
ville ! ” she cried. And Big Sandy, Ailsie, 
and even Little Sandy ! How queer that they 
should have come back with him, all together, 
that way I ” 

Winifred, also, thought it strange, because 
it would have been impossible for her mes- 
senger to have reached the town so soon. 
She hurried out after Angel, greeting the 
physician as an old acquaintance. They had 
met several times, already, brief as her resi- 
dence in that neighborhood had been ; because 
it was her guardians’ habit, at whatever place 
they stopped, immediately to put their lame 
charge into the best medical care available. 


70 Little Miss Evangeline 

But this honest practitioner had protested, 
at first ; declaring that except for her using 
crutches, Winifred seemed perfectly healthy 
and normal. However, as her relatives in- 
sisted and made light of the expense incurred, 
he had obeyed and visited her at her hotel on 
every alternate morning. It was natural, then, 
that her first thought should have been of 
him and that she should exclaim : 

O dear Dr. Dupont, how good of you 
to come so quickly ! Did the boy tell you 
what has happened ? 

“ I’ve seen no boy. Miss Winifred, but Big 
Sandy told me. He walked into town after 
me right away, but I was away from home and 
could not get here earlier.” 

“Big Sandy? And Angel never even 
guessed where he had gone ! She felt 
as if he had deserted her and poor Mere 
Marie I ” 

“ Ah ! Miss Winnie, when that good fellow 
turns his back on his friends in trouble he 
will have changed, indeed. The fact that his 
own children were afraid to stay behind him, 
with poor, delirious Mere Marie, didn’t hinder 
him a moment. He simply took Ailsie in his 


Angel’s Charge 71 

arms "and carried her, while Little Sandy 
trudged behind.” 

By this time they had come to the inner 
room, where the aged Acadian lay softly 
breathing and in what now seemed a sweet 
repose. If Dr. Dupont was surprised to find 
Ma'am 'Liza arid his rich patron from the 
States in charge he made no comment and was 
grateful for the fact. Of Ma'am 'Liza's 
capability and Winifred's generosity he was 
sure and at the first glance he saw that there 
was need here for both. 

The expression on the colored woman's face 
proved that she, also, recognized the fact that 
Mere Marie was. ill unto death. “ Like the 
one horse shay,” he thought, she has lasted 
a century and fallen to pieces in a breath.” 
It was a pit}^, but it was wholly natural and 
right. Better for her to go with such scant 
suffering than to have lived a helpless burden 
to her incapable son, old Pierre. She would 
be missed in that whole countryside. The 
oldest Acadian ” had been one of its institu- 
tions,” interesting to natives and strangers 
alike. 

Where is your grandfather, little girl?” 


72 Little Miss Evangeline 

he suddenly demanded of Angel, who timidly 
watched him from the doorway. 

I don’t know ! Oh ! I don’t know ! 
Maybe Sandy, Big Sandy — do you?” she 
cried, running to the smith who stood in the 
kitchen, silent and observant. 

“ Gone with the hunters, lass,” he answered 
briefly. Words were something the kindly 
giant rarely wasted. Therefore he had not 
told her even when he slipped away so sud- 
denly in pursuit of a doctor. He had known 
that it would be of no use, but he had known 
it was the right thing to do. So the neigh- 
bors, so Mrs. Melanson would probably say — 
after it was too late. It was always too late. 
The doctor had not helped Janet. He could 
not save Mere Marie. When the time came 
that the Lord called one must go. Janet had 
been young, compared with Mere Marie, but 
it was the same call and there would be no 
escape. Also, nothing would remain to him. 
Big Sandy, but to do his duty in that state 
of life into which it had pleased God to call 
him.” 

This was the whole of the blacksmith’s 
simple creed. He had that very morning al- 


Angel’s Charge 


73 


most resolved to put his '' duty behind him 
and seek his better fortune with the well-to-do 
Melansons, and at once this trouble had be- 
fallen. He was meant to stay, and it warmed 
his heart to feel Angel nestling to him and de- 
manding : 

“ But you’ll be here all the time, Big Sandy, 
dear, won’t you ? For if Grand-Pierre is off 
with the hunters it may be long — it may be 
weeks before he comes back.” 

“ Weeks, lass. It was a long camp the 
strangers meant to make.” 

He did not add that the team which had con- 
veyed the campers to the beach, whence they 
sailed in a schooner for the distant forests across 
the Basin, had already returned to the town 
beyond ; and that their driver had reported : 

They’re a lot of rich fellows from the 
States, off on a holiday, and going to make it 
last as long as possible. Said they didn’t 
want to see a newspaper, get a letter, or hear 
one thing that happened while they were in 
the woods. Jolliest one of the crowd was old 
Pierre Brevard, who started with them and 
not a fresh shirt to his back. Just a : ‘ Hallo, 
Pierre ! Join us ? ’ and he joined. Biggest 


74 Little Miss Evangeline 

boy in all Kings County, that old chap is, yet 
he’ll never see eighty again ! ” 

Yes, the blacksmith would be away for a 
long time, likely, and Angel would find that 
out by the passage of the days. It was not 
often that he did make long trips while the 
little girl was at the cottage, for he was too 
fond of her to leave her, and shorter outings 
with her for company satisfied him. Nor did 
he know that his sudden disappearance now 
would worry anybody. But it did distress 
her, sadly, believing that he had gone simply 
because she had refused to tell him the 

secret ” Mere Marie had bound her to 
keep. 

'' But, Sandy, if you get a chance, do send him 

word. You see — you see He — well, he 

gets angry just the same way Little Sandy, or 
Ned, or any of the rest of the children do, and I 
hadn’t a chance to make up with him. Some- 
thing I didn’t tell him, you know, but I can’t 
explain it more. Never mind, though. One 
good thing there is : by the time he gets back 
Mere Marie will be real well again, and he 
won’t be bothered. He hates bothers so, dear 
Grand-Pierre.” 


Angel’s Charge 75 

Aye, lassie, he do so,’* assented Big Sandy, 
seriously. 

And you think she’ll be all well, don’t 
you ? ” persisted the little maid, following the 
smith to the shop where another job awaited 
him. She seems so sweet and peaceful now. 
Maybe when she wakes up again, she can see 
all right. Maybe.” 

** Aye, maybe.” 

That doctor, who knows everything about 
sick people, told Ma’am ’Liza in there that 
there was nothing to do but to wait. And the 
black woman said : ‘Yes. Jes’ wait. Dis 
yere ain’ no case fo’ dosin’s.’ Such a funny 
way she talks, and Winifred says it’s like all 
the colored people ‘ down South.’ I like her. 
I like her so much — both of them. And 
when Mere Marie gets well she’ll want to do 
something nice for them, I know that. If 
anybody ever did her a good turn she’d long 
to turn it back. Oh 1 you know what 1 mean, 
dear Big Sandy ; and I begin to feel so happy, 
out here with you going to work just the same 
as ever, M^re Marie asleep, those nice friends 
so new they just happened this very day, and 
the doctor smiling at me so kind 


76 Little Miss Evangeline 

Hark ! What’s that ? are they calling 
me?” 

Aye, lass. Step quick. ’Tis herself, I 
mind. They sometimes do that at the end. 
Go, Angel ! ” 

And once more the busy smith laid down 
his tools and followed the girl indoors, care- 
less that the unshod horse he left behind 
him was growing fractious from long wait- 
ing. 

Mere Marie had raised herself in the bed, 
and though she could not see, she was quick 
to hear Angel’s step and stretched out her 
arms, crying : 

My boy, my baby Pierre I Take care of 
him, child. The secret — the task — the 
glory Take care of my Pierre ! ” 

Oh 1 yes. Mere Marie, sweetest, dearest 
Mere Marie I We’ll take care of him to- 
gether. We always have, we love him so, 
and I didn’t tell the * secret,’ I didn’t I Don’t 
think it — don’t Why, Mere Marie! ” 

The old Acadian’s voice had grown weaker 
with each word she uttered, with long pauses 
between, and with her last motherly thought 
of Pierre,” as he had been in that long, long 


Angel’s Charge 77 

past, a baby in her arms, she sank back upon 
her pillow and went to sleep again. 

Not till they told her, did the girl, charged 
with this care ” of a gray-haired man, 
understand that for beloved Mere Marie, 
there would be no earthly waking. 


CHAPTER VI 


WHEN A WEEK HAD PASSED 

“You must weed the carrots, to-day, 
Charlie Micmac ; and, if there is time, the 
onions, too. Grand-Pierre is so fond of 
onions I I want them to be fine. After 
Ailsie and I come back from the churchyard. 
I’ll help. There’s the churning, too. Mrs. 
Melanson said, last night, that the cream 
would be just right this morning. You will 
show me just how — just how Mere Marie 
fixed the butter. Your porridge is ready, if 
you want it.” 

The Indian lad set down the empty pail he 
held and turned in the doorway. It had 
been his habit to fill the pail from the well, 
whose great sweep had long been too heavy for 
his old mistress’s strength. But to be 
directed in his duties by M^re Marie was one 
thing, and to have this bit of a girl ordering 
him about was quite another. 

78 


when a Week Had Passed 79 

Who made you my boss, Angel Brevard, 
anyway ? ” 

“ Why — why — she who has gone, I sup- 
pose. At least Why, Charlie ? All this 

week, while so many of the neighbors have 
been here, youVe gone on just as ever and 
been so nice. I haven’t said anything about 
it, ’cause, somehow, I can’t talk much any 
more. Lumps get in my throat and choke 
me. It’s so — so awful without her ! and 
Grand-Pierre still away I But I’ve noticed. 
When Mrs. Melanson talked that about our 
shutting the cottage and my going back to 
Digby I told her we couldn’t do that. I said 
that you knew everything about the farm and 
the house, too, and that we would go on just 
the same, only missing her so much. Seems 
if she would come in from the garden, any 
minute, doesn’t it, Charlie Micmac ? ” 

Pshaw ! I hope not I ” he answered, 
hastily, casting an anxious glance over his 
shoulder. Then, to change the subject, he 
asked : '' Well, what about my wages, 

then?” 

« Wages, Charlie? Did you ever have 
any?” 


8o 


Little Miss Evangeline 

No-o. Not yet. But they was a-comin\ 
This very summer she was going to begin 
^em. She used to say she hadn't the money. 
But — but " 

But what, please ? " 

She did have it. I've seen it. She used 
to sell every scrap she could off the farm, and 
we've always had the best cherries and apples 
in the valley. Don't I know? Wasn't it 
always me that had 'em to pick and pack and 
get to the railroad for Halifax or St. John's ? 
Why, ours were always nicer than farmer 
Melanson's, and he gets a power of dollars for 
hisn. But none of it was mine. She said 
when I ‘ come of age.' She was so old herself 
I don't believe she knew how old anybody 
else was, me nor none." 

Angel pulled a chair to the table and set 
the lad's breakfast upon it. A wrinkle of 
anxiety settled on her face as she bent and 
cautiously sniffed the corn-meal mush. Then 
she offered her meek apology : 

I'm afraid the mush is a little bit scorched, 
Charlie. A little bit. I'm sorry. I can't 
seem to think about the mush and the chick- 
ens and redding the rooms up, all at once. 


When a Week Had Passed 8i 


Not all at once — yet. MSre Marie could. So 
can my mother, when the boys don^t mess 
them too much. But I'm trying hard, 
Charlie, and I'll manage after a time. I 
must manage, you see, 'cause there's nobody 
.else." 

“ Sugar ! Should think it was scorched. A 
feller couldn't eat it, nohow. And this is all 
trash, you know, about us going on here 
same's we did. If old Pierre Brevard hasn't 
got sense enough to come 'tend to his own 
farm he can't look to me to run it for him. 
Not when I've got the chanst offered of good 
wages and better victuals. Mrs. Melanson's a 
prime cook. Almost as good as M5re Marie 
was : and she could make things awful tasty." 

The lad was healthy and hungry, and he 
tried faithfully to eat the blackened pudding 
which the new little mistress of the cottage 
had set before him. But the best he could 
manage was to drink all the milk in the 
pitcher. 

‘‘ Say, let's have the rest of that b'iled ham 
the neighbors fetched for the funeral," he de- 
manded. ** Can't expect me to weed carrots 
on an empty stummick, can ye ? " 


82 


Little Miss Evangeline 


Angers eyes flashed angrily, then her lip 
curled in disgust, as she retorted : 

Well, if food sent for such a time doesn't 
choke you — I'll get it. I was going to ask the 
woman who gave it to take it home again, 
'cause, of course, I didn't know I had such a, 
heartless — heartless boy in the house ! " 

With an indignant switch of the scarlet 
frock she still wore, having no mourning 
clothes provided, Angel darted into the spring- 
house where she had kept the ham and other 
left-overs from that sad feast which the neigh- 
bors who furnished it alone partook of. She 
had meant to spend some part of the day in 
returning this food to its donors ; for though 
she recognized the kindness that provided it, 
the very sight of it distressed her. 

Her anger passed, though, even before she 
had come back from the spring-house. After 
all, it was her own carelessness that had 
spoiled the mush. So she set down the dish 
quite gently, and though she would not have 
touched the meat herself, she lingered for a 
moment to watch Charlie Micmac enjoy it and 
to discuss matters with him. 

Charlie," she said at last, how old are 


when a Week Had Passed 83 

you ? And do you mean to tell me that those 
Melansons are trying to coax you away from 
your home, same as they did Big Sandy ? 

I’m — I’m — maybe, I’m ten, or there- 
abouts.” 

Charlie Micmac ! You silly thing ! Why, 
I’m twelve myself, and you’re almost twice as 
big as I am. You must be sixteen, at least ; 
for you’re as large as my brother, Renez. 
Ten ! Why Germain is ten, and Jean’s al- 
most as old. He’s eight, going on nine. 
Charlie Micmac, you ought to learn things. 
You ought to read and write and cipher, a 
great fellow like you. Why, Renez keeps all 
the work accounts of my father and the boys. 
He can write, so’s almost anybody can read it 
too. Almost anybody can. The teacher said 
I wrote better, but my mother says that is be- 
cause I have a gift. When a person has a gift, 
it’s ho credit to them to do things well. I’ll 
teach you if you want me to, and — and if 
there is time. After all the work is done. 
What do you say ? ” 

The Indian lad pushed back from the table 
and shook his head, protesting : 

No, siree I No book foolishness for me ; 


84 Little Miss Evangeline 

and you surely have one * gift/ if you haven^t 
many. That's the gift o' gab ! " 

Poor Angel ! That was the one fault dear 
Mere Marie had used to find in her. Often 
and often had the dame's wrinkled hand been 
uplifted in protest against her grandchild's 
chatter. She had been a silent woman, al- 
ways too busy and intent upon her own 
thoughts to talk much. 

“ Well, if I have, it isn't for you, Charlie 
Micmac, to make fun of me about it ; and I 
don't know what is the matter with you all at 
once. Why don't — why don't you do like 
you used to, and not be so ill-tempered ? Isn't 
it hard enough, dreadful enough, anyway^ 
without being hateful ? Oh I if Grand-Pierre 
would come home ! But he doesn't, and Big 
Sandy must work in the shop. Little Sandy 
and Ailsie are too small to do much, and if 
things are to be as they should be for dear 
Grand-Pierre, we've got to keep on trying. 
You at the farm work and I at the housework, 
helping outside all I can. It seems, some- 
times, as if there wasn't any real use, but there 
is. We must. And when we must, we can. 
You know that, Charlie, don't you ? " 


when a Week Had Passed 85 

No, I don^t. But what I know is it’s clear 
folly us a- botherin’ this way. You ought to 
go home to Digby and I ought to go to work 
for farmer Melanson. Big Sandy ought, too. 
Farmer’s terrible short-handed this summer, 
and he’s got a lot to do.” 

Why, Charlie I I thought you didn’t like 
Farmer I” cried Angel, really astonished, and 
suddenly remembering an old feud between 
the lad and the man. I thought he ac- 
cused you of — of Well, you know. 

That apple business, and he called you a 
name.” 

Charlie reddened and sat down again. 

** You needn’t be afraid to speak it out, 
Angel Brevard. He called me ‘ an Indian 
thief,’ that’s what he called me ; and I’ll get 
even with him some time, if I have to wait a 
long spell first. I haven’t forgiven him and 
I’m not going to, even though Mere Marie 
told me to let it pass out my mind like the 
wind blowing through the trees. She was 
mad, too. Mere Marie was, and she said that 
the Micmacs were a heap sight better’n any 
English ever trod Gaspereau valley I Before 
ever them English came we lived here and 


86 


Little Miss Evangeline 

owned everything. Before ever the Acadians, 
too. They found us here and treated us 
straight and we them ; but — but 

“ Then, Charlie, if history proves you as 
good as he, just remember what dear Mere 
Marie said and not mind him at all ; but just 
mind your own business and donT mind if 

things Dear, dear I How mixed up that 

sounds, but you know what I mean. We’ll 
do the best we can, just as if both M^re Marie 
and Grand-Pierre were here with us. Won’t 
we, Charlie ? ” 

‘‘ Well — hmm. Angel, didn’t you say I’d 
been here, in this farm and cottage, longer’n 
you ? ” 

“ Why, yes. Of course. Everybody knows 
that.” 

Then it ought to be me that handles the 
money. I ought to be the boss, the master. 
Big Sandy runs the forge and asks no odds of 
anybody, and hands over just what money 
he’s a-mind to. So, it’s sensible, ’t if I run 
the farm I must take the money that comes 
for eggs and butter and green-market stuff ; 
or else you can pay me a wage, same’s Farmer 
would, and take care of the money yourself ; 


When a Week Had Passed 87 

till Pierre Brevard gets back. If he ever 
comes I And if 

Unfortunately, Charlie Micmac’s eyes that 
instant fell upon the burned porridge, and he 
reflected that, once the extra luxuries which 
had been sent them at the time of their 
trouble were exhausted, he would fare badly, 
indeed. He could cook, himself ; oh, yes ! He 
could do very well at that business, having 
been drilled in it for years by Mere Marie, 
but — had he not suddenly been placed at the 
head of outdoor affairs ? And was it a man’s 
duty to plow and cook, both ? Besides, he re- 
membered words he had heard spoken by out- 
siders, and passed them on to Angel : 

The neighbors think it was odd none of 
your folks come to the burying. They reckon 
’t you’ll have to go home without waiting for 
Pierre Brevard to get done hunting. So, 
though I’ll work to-day, same’s ever, I ain’t 
likely to tarry long. And I’d like a few 
cents, to-night, to buy some notions in the 
village.” 

But, Charlie, I haven’t any money. None 
at all. You must know that, though I’d give 
it to you, quick, if I had and if — if you 


88 


Little Miss Evangeline 


wouldn’t do right any other way. Why, how 
horrid I You’ve lived here just the same as 
I, and longer. Mere Marie took you when 
nobody else in the world would bother with a 
little Indian baby ; and yet the moment, al- 
most, she is gone you demand her money. 
For whatever there is is hers still. Or rather, 
it was just hers in trust for — for something. 
For ^ a purpose.’ What we get now will be 
Grand-Pierre’s, though I shall ask him for 
part, just to do what she said with it. Dear 
Grand-Pierre ! It’s very little he bothers his 
fine old head with money ! Pah I I hate the 
name of it ! Only, as she said, one must have 
it even to do good with. I’m going now. 
Here comes Ailsie, the darling I See such 
great bunches of wild roses she has gathered 
for the churchyard, all her little hands can 
hold — all her arms can, either. For Janet 
and Mere Marie. Seems if they must be com- 
pany for each other, there in that spot, and 
glad to be there together and — and rest I 
They must have been so tired, the dears, yet 
neither one complained ; and I, who’ve been 
washing dishes and sweeping fioors only such 
a few days, here I am tired already. Ah I 


when a Week Had Passed 89 

Ailsie, sweetheart I What a delight and help 
you are ! Let's go by the smithy door and 
show them to Big Sandy." 

Angel caught up the little Ailsie, roses and 
all, and hugged her passionately. The child 
had been her greatest comfort during these 
past sad days, never questioning her decisions, 
never telling her what she should or should 
not do — as the neighbor women had — and in 
pure sympathy softly shedding tears when 
Angel's own tears fell. It had been a hard 
and sorrowful week, indeed ; and now to have 
Charlie Micmac turn discontented and rebel- 
lious seemed more than she could bear. 

She had not seen Winifred Lawrence since 
that first day ; and Angel's sensitive heart had 
been hurt by this neglect. True, there had 
come the gift of a beautiful palm-leaf, so big 
that Mrs. Melanson said it must have cost a 
great deal of money, and a fine bunch of 
wheat from a florist's at Halifax. As if their 
own little farm did not grow wheat enough 
for any such sad purpose ! Though again the 
farm wife explained that such decorations were 
much more suitable and ** fashionable " than 
flowers, for a person of such extreme age. But 


90 Little Miss Evangeline 

whatever had dear Mere Marie to do with 
fashion? Even Angel herself scarcely knew 
the meaning of the word, and as for flowers — 
nobody in the world should have had more 
about her, at the last, than sweet Mere Marie, 
who had loved and labored for them all her 
life. 

With the palm-leaf and the wheat had 
come a card of condolence.’^ Also, in a note 
addressed to Mrs. Melanson herself, a flfty- 
dollar bill, which she was kindly to use 
toward needful expenses ” ; but which the re- 
cipient promptly returned with her own stiff 
little note. She had in this explained that no 
“ need ” existed : and that everybody in the 
countryside would have been glad to do any- 
thing possible for the remarkable woman who 
had died, had there been this need. 

Nothing further followed this offer and re- 
fusal, and Mrs. Melanson decided that Wini- 
fred had left Wolfville. Few strangers from 
the States did tarry long, even in the towns 
of which the Nova Scotians were most proud. 
The Americans ” were a restless lot, it seemed, 
and most unsatisfactory acquaintances. To 
Angel she remarked : 


when a Week Had Passed 91 

‘‘ It is silly to think cf that girl again. She 
has probably forgotten you, and certainly did 
more than could have been expected of a 
stranger. You should use your common sense 
— if you have any ; that few youngsters do 
have.’^ 

Angel used her common sense, as advised, 
but she had not forgotten Winifred. 

She thought of her more longingly still, 
that morning, as she and little Ailsie came 
with their burden of fresh blooms to lay upon 
the mound where, as yet, no grass grew ; and 
though out in the road she espied once more 
a buckboard of fresh tourists she carefully 
avoided the interior of the old church and led 
Ailsie homeward by a roundabout way. 

Shan^t we go in, Angel, dear? Shan’t we 
ever go in again when the people come, and 
get their pennies that they give ? Shan’t we ? 
My, Sandy is running ’cross lots now, and 
Ned I I see them, Angel. I must go to 
Sandy, I must, Angel Brevard ! ” 

Go then, if you care more for pennies than 
for me ! ” cried the unhappy girl, tossing the 
little one’s hand from her arm, with a gesture 
of which she was instantly ashamed. But it 


92 


Little Miss Evangeline 


was too late to excuse it or seek to banish 
that sudden grieved look from the small face 
she loved. Ailsie had vanished like a flash, 
calling back in her shrill treble : 

‘‘ 'Course, I must, Angel ; Sandy and I be- 
long I Sandy and I ! " 

“ And the money, too I " thought Angel, 
bitterly. “ Oh ! I wish — I wish — I wonder if 
it's wrong to wish it — that Mere Marie had 
never, never told me about that ‘purpose.' 
And I wonder how much she had gathered to- 
ward it I If I'm to be her helper, to go on and 
do what she wanted to if she could have lived 
long enough, ought I not to know how much 
of a beginning she had toward it ? Ought I 
to open the jar and count it? Ought I to 
leave it alone and tell Grand-Pierre every- 
thing when he comes home ? That would be 
what I would like. And why, why, didn't 
Mere Marie begin her ‘ purpose ' years and 
years ago, when she would have had time to 
finish it ? 

“ Oh, dear I That's wrong — awful. ‘ None 
should criticise the dead.' I heard her say 
that herself when somebody had died who 
had done wrong. Yet here am I blaming 


when a Week Had Passed 


93 


her who never did a wrong thing in her life. 
Oh ! forgive me, forgive me, dear, precious 
Mere Marie, and I’ll live for the ' purpose,’ as 
you bade me — if I can, if I can I ” 

Running back to the flower-strewn mound 
she buried her face in the roses and kissed 
them as she would once have kissed the loved 
one lying beneath. Then she got up and 
hurried home. 

But, kneeling there, sobbing for forgiveness, 
there had flashed into her mind with clear 
distinctness, the fact that it was now her right 
and duty to look after that money Mere Marie 
had so carefully hoarded ; to count it and to 
keep hereafter a strict account of its amount 
and the additions she must make to it. 

As she reached the cottage with its open 
door and still uncared for interior, she was 
shocked by the effect of her own heedless- 
ness. The unwashed dishes on the table, the 
crumbs upon the floor, the wide-opened spring- 
house, that should have been so tightly closed 
against the heat, Charlie Micmac’s unmade 
bed in the lean-to beyond — all stared at her 
with mute reproach. 

“ Oh ! poor Mere Marie ! She would rather I 


94 


Little Miss Evangeline 


tidied her house than have carried flowers to 
the churchyard. I can hear her say : ^ Duty 
first, sweetheart ! ^ And Vll set things straight 
right away, after I have seen about that 
money-jar. Big Sandy is in the forge, Charlie 
is at work on the carrots. It's a good chance. 
I'm so slow to count and they must not know 
the ^ secret.' I'll count the money first, yes." 

Angel went to the fireplace, carefully re- 
moved the loose stone, and reached into the 
space behind it. Then she drew back with a 
quick gesture of amazement. 

The jar was not there. 


CHAPTER VII 


SUSPICION AND FRIENDSHIP 

What does it mean ? Where can it be ? 
murmured Angel, aghast at this discovery. 

I'm sure I moved the right stone. It had 
a cross on it, scratched with a nail. The jar 
stood there, right there on the narrow ledge 
behind the stone, where the inside of the 
chimney is so uneven. Could M^re Marie 
have moved it ? But no. Of course she did 
not. I was here all the time and it was so 
soon, so very soon after that the blindness 
came. What has become of it ! What shall 
I do — what shall I do ? " 

The loss of her great-grandmother's treasure 
seemed the last stroke of misfortune, and 
more than she could endure. For with this 
loss came an odd feeling that she was guilty 
of it, and that she had proved unfaithful to a 
mighty trust." 

Careless now about the disordered state of 
95 


96 Little Miss Evangeline 

the cottage or of anything, in fact, save the 
missing jar, she dropped down on the floor 
and buried her face in her hands, as was her 
habit when she wanted “ to think.” Over 
and over she recalled each incident of that 
day when she had been entrusted with the 
secret of the jar, and it seemed that she could 
almost hear M^re Marie^s dear, quavering 
voice explaining, exhorting, commanding. 

“ She passed it on to me, to live for the ^ pur- 
pose,^ after she should be ^ called ^ ; and she 
was ^ called ^ so soon, so very soon I It makes 
me feel very queer. All numb and cold, as 
though I hadn’t real sense. It’s so dreadful 
I can’t even cry about it ; yet I’ve cried such 
a lot these last days. I’d ask Big Sandy about 
it if it wasn’t her ^ secret,’ and he wouldn’t 
understand. I’d ask ” 

The sound of somebody moving in the back 
room made her lift her face and look. It was 
only Charlie Micmac come in for a drink of 

water from the pail, and Suddenly there 

flashed into her memory an incident of that 
day she was recalling. She remembered now 
that, when she was replacing the jar in the 
hiding place, she had glanced toward that 


Suspicion and Friendship 97 

same inner room and seen the Indian lad 
staring at her, alert, keen-eyed, and curious. 

Why, Charlie Micmac, he saw me — yes, he 
saw me that day ! Does he — did he — could 
he 

The sudden suspicion sent her to her feet and 
into the back room, ready to accuse him of that 
dreadful thing — a theft. But she paused in 
time, fairly choking her thought back and ask- 
ing in a tone she tried to make quite natural : 

What do you want, Charlie ? 

Though her words were commonplace 
enough, her voice trembled more than she knew 
and her eyes were flashing. The lad lifted 
his head from drinking, looked at her for an in- 
stant, then toward the open door of the little 
chimney-cupboard, and turned pale, while 
the tin dipper dropped from his shaking hand 
and fell with a crash on the stone floor. 

For the space of a few seconds, that seemed 
to both of them a much longer time, they 
stared into each other^s faces, with a dreadful 
thought in both their minds. 

Then the color crept back into Charlie^s 
swarthy cheek and he replied, with an airy 
assumption of ease : 


98 Little Miss Evangeline 

“ Come for a drink, as you see. Dropped 
the dipper, too, but I'll wipe up the water. 
And — and — how come Mere Marie's cupboard 
open?" 

That it never had been open except when 
she was alone, both he and Angel knew ; also 
that none of the neighbors, and maybe not 
even Grand-Pierre himself, were aware of its 
existence they also knew. Once when the old 
chimney had been repaired. Mere Marie had had 
the little inside niche covered with a handle- 
less door, plastered and painted like all the 
rest of the kitchen walls. A knife blade 
slipped beneath the tiny door was the only way 
of moving it ; and all this unusual restoration 
of the ancient room had been undertaken 
during one of Pierre Brevard's camping trips 
and as a surprise to him. 

How did you know there was a cup- 
board ? " demanded Angel, sternly. 

Charlie hesitated, then answered truth- 
fully : 

“ I watched and catched her at it, once. I 
was wondering where she kept her apple- 
money, and — and " 

“ Well, you found out, I suppose ! And 


99 


Suspicion and Friendship 

now, if you please, tell me what has become 
of the jar? What have you done with it and 
the money that was in it ? 

I — I’ve done nothing. I never even 
touched the money,” he answered. Then 
added, to disarm her suspicion : “ Was there 

a jar, anyway ? ” 

Angel fairly gasped. But because she 
could find no words severe enough to express 
her opinion she said nothing at all. Yet if 
looks could have scorched, poor Charlie 
Micmac would have been worse burned than 
the breakfast mush had been. 

He waited a moment, expecting the out- 
burst that did not come, then coolly sug- 
gested : 

S’posin’ I help you fix things in here, a 
spell, then you can come weed carrots with 
me.” 

Angel did not answer, but began to clear 
away the dishes, carrying her head as dis- 
dainfully as if her young heart were not 
almost bursting with indignation and grief 
For despite his prompt denial, she believed 
that the Indian lad had not only stolen M^re 
Marie’s treasure but had told a falsehood 


loo 


Little Miss Evangeline 

about it. She scarcely knew which was the 
greater fault, for it was a tenet of the 
Acadians that one should be absolutely 

truthful, and that to be honest Why, 

that was a matter of course, and went with- 
out saying.” 

Meanwhile, taking it for granted that she 
would follow his plan of mutual labor, 
Charlie brought a fresh armful of wood and 
rekindled the hearth fire. Then he swung the 
crane round, hung a kettle of water to heat, 
picked up a broom — he always called it the 
whisk ” — and set about redding up ” the 
rooms. As he worked his cheerfulness came 
back and he began to whistle a quaint 
melody, learned in happier days from Mere 
Marie herself 

The tune restored AngeTs speech, and she 
demanded : 

^‘How dare you, Charlie Micmac? To 

whistle, to-day, after Please, be still. 

I canT bear it. I wish you^d go away. Out 
that door. I don't want you near me.” 

Sugar I Ain’t you the oddest girl there 
is ? Little spell ago ’twas all for me an’ you 
to run the farm for Grand-Pierre ; and now 


Suspicion and Friendship loi 

you just switch round and try to clear me 
out. Well, I’ll clear willing enough. Shall 
I go ’fore dinner ? Breakfast wasn’t nothing 
to speak of, and Mis’ Melanson always gives 
her men- folks hearty victuals.” 

Oh, dear I How — how — I can’t talk ! 
You know you mustn’t go till Grand-Pierre 
comes, no matter what you’ve done. I wish 
you wouldn’t say another word, and I won’t 
till — till things get straight. We’ve got to 
stay. We’ve got to do right, now, no mat- 
ter ” 

Again Angel’s distress silenced her tongue ; 
and she fell mechanically to work, putting 
things into their rightful places, dusting each 
chair and its rungs with a carefulness which 
would have pleased Mere Marie, had she been 
there to see. The dame had never compelled 
the little girl to work, while she was at Grand 
Pre each summer, but she had accepted what- 
ever help Angel had offered of her own 
accord, and without knowing it the child had 
acquired dainty ways of doing things, very 
like Mere Marie’s own. 

It’s all so different ! I used to love to 
dust when I didn’t have to do it ! But now, 


102 


Little Miss Evangeline 

if I could only run away, off to the woods with 
Grand-Pierre, and have nothing but birds and 
flowers and squirrels round — and not, not 
such wicked people ! she cried, at last, 
when because of a sudden dash of tears she 
stooped too low and dusted the floor instead 
of the table leg. 

Charlie Micmac snickered. He couldn’t 
help it. He liked fun and hated gloom. He 
had never known such sombre days as these 
few last ones had been, for old Mere Marie 
was as light hearted as a child. The neigh- 
bors said that it was her laughing at life which 
had retained it for her so long, and that she 
had come to her second childhood. Just as, 
years before, after being nearly blind, she had 
regained her second sight.” He missed her. 
Indeed, though he did not say so, he missed 
his old mistress even more than Angel her- 
self. She and he had been always together, 
while Angel had been wandering with Grand- 
Pierre, or romping with the neighborhood 
children. 

Angel could romp, could laugh, with the 
merriest; the old-time Angel could. This 
new one, who was so grave and cried so much, 


Suspicion and Friendship 103 

and now was so angry with him, was a girl he 
scarcely knew and didn^t like at all. It would 
be much jollier at the Melanson farm. He 
would have to work no harder, there was al- 
ways some nonsense doing, and as for the food 
— he smacked his lips, remembering how 
Farmer would say, at haying-time, regarding 
the bountiful table he provided : 

Butter — milk and w-h-e-y, lagging — all — the — day j 

Ham and eggs, look out for your legs ! 

Mr. Melanson ’s droll dragging of the first 
line, and the swift jingle of the second, sug- 
gested the amount of labor each sort of diet 
would induce. 

Yes, he’d go to the farm I But, first, he’d 
finish washing the dishes ; and he proceeded 
with this task almost as mechanically as 
Angel with her dusting and far more deftly. 
Then he looked around for something further, 
and remembered the churning. 

Five minutes later, Angel was roused from 
a reverie, into which she had drifted, by the 
sound of the dasher, splashing up and down 
at a rate which would make that butter 
** come ” at a lively pace. He had scalded 


104 Little Miss Evangeline 

the churn, put the bowl and ladle a-soak, and 
done all, wasting not a moment. This simply 
because he had been trained to work that way 
and knew no other. 

But despite herself and her dreadful suspi- 
cion concerning him, Angel was touched ; and 
she sprang up, crying : 

“ Oh ! You must teach me that, Charlie 
Micmac ! I wish I knew how to be as quick 
as you are — when you’ve a mind to be.” 

Then in perfect amity, forgetful of the 
cloud between them, the girl leaned above 
the churn, occasionally taking the dasher in 
her own hands because, as she was admon- 
ished : 

“ You nor nobody must come in where 
butter’s a-churnin’ and not help churn, if 
only two or three dashes. Else, it’s bewitched 
and won’t never come, even if you churn it 
forever. Mere Marie said that.” 

Presently, from their combined exertions, 
the yellow butter duly “ came,” and Angel 
surveyed it proudly, even though her arms 
ached and she had sadly splashed her scarlet 
frock with bits of cream. 

Charlie Micmac hadn’t splashed a drop, not 



THE GIRL LEANED ABOVE THE CHURN 


r 


« . 



I 

« 4 


I ^ 




« 


f ’ 


4 


W ' 







I 




3 


* '• i. 






!t y 


( ■ * 

,_,a^V * 


>; 





% 



Suspicion and Friendship 105 

upon his own jeans, though some of the butter- 
milk had fallen upon the stone floor. It was 
dairy work of the most primitive type, yet 
even Mrs. Melanson admitted that the Brevard 
milk and butter equaled that of her farm, 
where such matters were managed after the 
most modern methods. 

** Oh ! how neat you’ve kept yourself, 
Charlie, while — just look at me! And oh! 
wouldn’t it' be nice to have a piece of Mere 
Marie’s white bread, right out of the Dutch 
oven, to eat with it ! And that makes me 
think — there isn’t another slice of bread in 
the spring-house. Not even from what the 
neighbors sent. Do you suppose, do you possi- 
bly suppose I could manage to make some 
and bake it ? If you’d fix the oven for me ? ” 

Charlie reflected. Here was a golden chance 
to assert his manly independence and decline 
his housewifely art. Also, if he were going to 
the Melanson farm, how did it matter to him 
whether Angel had bread or not? Mush was 
their principal food, and she’d have to eat her 
own messes, as she had bravely tried to do 
already ; and 

Well, here was, also, the chance to prove 


io6 Little Miss Evangeline 

his skill and ability superior to hers. Manage 
the Dutch oven ? Sugar ! If he couldn’t he 
must be a ninny. 

'' Pooh ! That’s easy. I’ll teach you. 
More’n that, if you’ll get out the flour and 
things I’ll mix a shortcake, and we can bake 
it in the tin-kitchen, ’fore them coals dies out. 
I’m hungry ; and hot shortcake tastes good 
with fresh butter. We could have some of 
them barberry preserves, on the high shelf ; 
and maybe some of the dried beef. I cured 
that myself, the way an old Indian basketer 
showed me. Mere Marie liked it. She liked 
it first-rate. Sugar 1 That would be ’most 
as good as ” 

He was about to add “ as Mis’ Melanson’s 
dinner,” but paused in time. Unpleasant 
subjects had, for the moment, lapsed between 
these two young cottagers, and Charlie Mic- 
mac knew the proverb about letting sleeping 
dogs lie.” 

So with an inimitable air of pride he set 
the butter bowl upon his shoulders, picked up 
the pail of surplus buttermilk he had drawn 
from the churn, and started for the spring- 
house. 


Suspicion and Friendship 107 

Angel looked after him, caught herself 
mimicking his absurd strut with a little 
laugh, and checked herself to wonder : 

Is it possible that I shall ever be happy 
again? And that I can forget how awful 
wicked he is ? Is he really wicked, or did I 
dream that about the jar being gone? Well, 
well, I won’t think of it for a bit. I just will 
not. I am so hungry and Charlie can make 
heavenly shortcake I I know, I’ve eaten it. 

By and by when berries come Ah ! 

umm ! ” 

With a smack of her red lips, as healthy 
and normal as Charlie Micmac’s had been, she 
sped about the room, fetched forth the tin- 
kitchen and set it before the coals to heat, 
brought out the bucket of precious white 
flour, and even forced herself to smear the 
baking pan with a bit of snowy lard, that 
Mere Marie had tried out ” herself and that 
was almost as sweet as the butter just churned. 
She remembered that the old dame had once 
remarked, when going about such a task, that 
lard kept dough from sticking better than 
butter did, though the best grease of all was 
pure oil. 


io8 Little Miss Evangeline 

Angel loathed grease of any sort, but 
resolutely set herself to handle it, whether she 
liked it or no. Then, when all these things 
were ready, she reset the table ; remarking to 
Ailsie, who now peeped in at the door : 

We’re going to have an early dinner, 
sweetheart ; because — because we are. Any- 
way, I don’t know what time it is. I forgot 
to wind the clock, ever so many days ago. 
Anyway, it’s a right enough dinner-time by 
the way I feel ; and you may stay to it, if you 
want, Ailsie, dear. Do you ? ” 

’Course. And Sandy, too.” 

No, not Sandy. I can’t have him tacked 
on to the end of every sentence. Besides, 
that boy eats all the time. If it isn’t mush 
it’s raw carrots, or turnips, or even birch bark. 
As for nuts, he doesn’t even leave the squir- 
rels and chipmunks their share. And apples, 
my heart ! No, Miss Ailsie, I’m inviting you 
but not your idol Sandy. You may take it or 

leave it that way, baby, and Kiss me, 

sweetheart. Say you forgive me for speaking 
so crossly to you, won’t you, darling? ” 

And stooping above the door-step where 
Ailsie had seated herself, Angel bestowed a 


Suspicion and Friendship 109 

kiss upon the rather smudgy cheek of her 
small visitor. 

Umm, umm. Angel cross. But Ailsie 
forgive her. And Sandy, too,’’ murmured the 
little one, happy to find things as they should 
be again. 

Humph ! You’re too satisfied with your- 
self, Miss Sweetness ! But I deserve it. A 
girl who can be cross and mistrust her friends 
is a hateful thing ! ” 

And, rising with this sentiment upon her 
lips, Angel found herself face to face with an- 
other mistrusted friend. For Winifred Law- 
rence stood upon the stone before the door- 
way, her hands outstretched, and a tender 
smile upon her lovely face. 

“ You ? You’ve come back ? ” cried Angel. 

Yes, yes I And come to stay — this time 1 ” 


CHAPTER VIII 


A DINNER GUEST 

For a moment after that the two girls 
studied one another's faces in silence. Each 
felt a bit awkward at this meeting and Wini- 
fred was certainly surprised by Angel's appar- 
ent cheerfulness. She had dreaded the sight 
of a grief for which there was no comfort and 
had considered over and over how best to ex- 
press her sympathy without awaking fresh 
distress. 

Come in, please, Winifred. We’re just go- 
ing to get our dinner, Charlie and I. I — I 
thought I should never see you again. So 
many strangers come and go, and Mrs. Me- 
lanson ” 

Winifred interrupted by leaning forward on 
her crutches, drawing Angel's face between 
her hands and kissing it on either cheek. 
Then she swung upward over the door-step, 
from which Ailsie had retreated, sank into the 
chair beside it, and demanded ; 

no 


A Dinner Guest 


111 


** Angel Brevard, do you like that woman ? '' 

Why — course. I like her ; but I don’t, I 
guess I don’t love her. What makes you ask ? ” 
“I think she’s horrid. She came to the 
hotel and told Ma’am ’Liza a lot of stuff. She 
said — well, no matter about that. You seemed 
so surprised to see me just now, Angel. Didn’t 
she give you my message ? ” 

** What message ? ” asked Angel ; “ she said 
something about money, but I didn’t under- 
stand exactly. She’s such a terribly busy 
woman, Mrs. Melanson is. If she doesn’t look 
after the whole entire neighborhood she 
doesn’t know what would become of it. She 
says so herself ; and with all that big farm and 
such lots of folks to cook for, and clothes to 
buy and make, as well as Big Sandy’s bairns 
— why, she almost takes your breath away 
just hearing her tell it. If you sent any 
special message, she must have forgotten it, or 
else thought it best not to give it. She’s been 
very kind really. She always has. But 
sometimes Grand-Pierre had ^ to put for the 
woods ’ when she came in to help about the 
butchering, or something. She — I guess she 
and Grand-Pierre weren’t ever very happy to- 


112 


Little Miss Evangeline 

gether. Darling Grand-Pierre isn’t so clever 
as Mrs. Melanson, likely, but he’s easier, some- 
how. Maybe that’s because he’s just a regular 
^ Bluenose,’ born here in Nova Scotia ; and 

she Why, Winifred Lawrence, that 

woman was born in London ! Think of that I 
In the big, big city of London, that there’s a pic- 
ture of in my geography, and right next door 
to the Royal Family, I suppose. Oh ! she’s a 
very, very good woman, and if I don’t love 
her it’s some fault in me, I suppose. My ! 
how I am talking ! And I meant to — to 
* bridle my chattering tongue,’ as darling Mere 
Marie was often advising me. O Winifred ! 
I miss her so, I miss her so I ” 

Down went the girl upon the floor, and 
buried her face in the other’s lap, while Wini- 
fred stroked the dark head tenderly. At 
home, some who had envied her wealth and 
sought her intimacy had found this young 
“ American ” airish and stuck-up,” and these 
would have been surprised to have seen her 
now. But in fact, and at heart, she was as 
simple and sincere as this little “ Bluenose ” 
herself ; and their mutual simplicity attracted 
each to the other. 


A Dinner Guest 


113 

Angel’s burst of tears ended almost as 
swiftly as it had begun, and dashing her hand 
across her still wet lashes, she sprang to her 
feet, exclaiming : 

A funny sort of housekeeper I am ! That’s 
three or four times to-day I’ve stopped just to 
cry. Now, Ailsie, bring that footstool for our 
company’s feet while I get the things ready. 
You can talk just the same, Winifred, and ex- 
plain about the message while I’m sifting. If 
I don’t hurry, Charlie Micmac may get out of 

the notion Say, don’t you just love hot 

shortcake ? Hot, with fresh butter on it, but- 
ter churned this very morning ? ” 

“ Angel, what a funny child you are ! ” re- 
turned Winifred laughing. ‘‘ You’re sifting 
that flour all over the table and yourself in- 
stead of into the dish. And I don’t know 
whether I ^ love ’ shortcake or not, for I never 
ate any. But I do love you and I’m so happy 
to And you still here at Grand Pr6 and still 
all right.” 

Ailsie, too, Winifred loves Ailsie, too,” 
asserted that little one composedly. She had 
come to the stranger’s side and was ecstatically 
smoothing the folds of the soft silk frock she 


114 


Little Miss Evangeline 

wore. It was the first time her chubby 
fingers had ever touched such a fabric, and 
she delighted in it with a pleasure more grati- 
fying to its wearer than any words of praise 
could have been. “ Pretty feel, isn’t it ? 
Ailsie loves Winifred, Ailsie does.” 

‘‘ Oh ! you sweet baby ! Who could help 
loving you I ” cried the other, lifting the small 
admirer to her lap. 

And Sandy, too. Loves Sandy, too.” 

Ah ! well I For your sake, ' Sandy, too.’ 
But Angel, you should have been told how 
Uncle and Aunt sent word for Ma’am ’Liza to 
come to Halifax, right away that very even- 
ing. They had met some old friends of our 
family there, and these people were just start- 
ing on a fresh trip that Uncle thought would 
be charming. He wanted to join them and, 
of course, didn’t dream of leaving me behind. 
Perhaps I didn’t tell you that my father and 
mother are making a tour of the world, while 
we three are just loafing around Canada. For 
a whole year I shall not see them, and I hope 
when they do get back home my father will 
be well again. He’s had so much business on 
his mind that he broke down in health and 


A Dinner Guest 


115 

was ordered away. That’s how I’m here ; be- 
cause, of course Well, it goes without 

saying that nobody globe-trotting could be 
bothered with — a cripple ! ” 

The sweet voice faltered and broke, with a 
little sob ; and in another instant Angel was 
at Winifred’s side, her floury hands clasped 
around the silk-clad shoulders and her own 
sympathetic kisses falling on the tear-wet 
cheek. 

Oh ! don’t you grieve, too, Winifred, dar- 
ling ! And they aren’t — aren’t dead, you 
know. They’re still alive and well, and if 
you’re lame now maybe you won’t always be. 
Why, of course, you won’t. Why should you ? 
Your legs are as big as mine, I guess. I’m 
sure your feet are ; and why you don’t use 
them same as I do mine, is a puzzle. I would, 
if I were you ; then you can go ^ globe-trot- 
ting,’ too, whatever that is.” 

“ O Angel, if I could ! If I only could ! I 
heard a girl say once, at home in Baltimore, 
that she’d rather be lame like me and have all 
my money — you see they call me an ^ heiress 
in my own right,’ because somebody died and 
left me a lot — than be able to run about as 


n6 Little Miss Evangeline 

she could and have no more than a ^ quarter ' 
at a time. But she didn’t know, she couldn’t 
guess what she was talking about. 

“ Never mind. I didn’t come here to add 
to your grief. I want to help you if I can. 
That is, if you are going to stay at Grand Pre. 
If you’re not I shan’t. I’ll take Ma’am ’Liza 
and follow Uncle and Aunt.” 

Surely, I’m going to stay. That’s what I 
came for. I always do stay all summer, and 
this time I must more than ever. Maybe all 
the winter, too, because Grand-Pierre was given 
to me to take care of. So, of course, I must 
stay. Mere Marie gave him to me just before 
— at that very last time she spoke.” 

Winifred stared and exclaimed : 

“ What an odd, what an extremely odd 
thing ! She * gave ’ you your grandfather ? 
I don’t understand.” 

No, I s’pose not. You see, you’ve never 
known Grand-Pierre. So, of course, you 
wouldn’t understand. But he was Mere 
Marie’s one little boy, her * baby ’ she called 
him, sometimes. She never seemed to know 
he had grown up. Though he had, surely, be- 
cause my own father is Grand-Pierre’s son and 


A Dinner Guest 


117 


there was a grandmother, too, but I never saw 
her. She died before I was born, though Renez 
has seen her. Anyway, my father, who was 
Grand-Pierre's little boy, married and went 
away. Clear down to Digby I He didn’t like 
the farm so well as the sea. He’s a sailor and 
a fisher and a miner, all three. Yes, and a 
woodsman, too. He works at whatever job 
comes handiest, but he loves the sea best. So 
does Paul, my eldest brother. Already he is 
apprenticed to a big ship that sails between 
St. John’s and Boston. A ship with five 
masts to it, think of that ! Mrs. Melanson 
says I ought to go home, and if Grand-Pierre 
should ever come back — as if he wouldn’t ! — 
he should go, too. But he’ll never. He’ll 
never. He doesn’t like Digby ; there are so 
many folks and so little woods.” 

Too many folks in Digby ? Why, how 
funny I Little bit of a Digby. Why, do you 
know they don’t even run a Sunday train 
from there, nor bring in a Sunday paper, or 
do anything from six o’clock Saturday night 
till six on Monday morning ? Does that seem 
possible?” laughingly asked this advanced 
young person from the States.” 


ii8 Little Miss Evangeline 

Angel knew nothing about Sunday trains 
and cared infinitely less. She felt, however, 
that in some way her beloved home-town was 
being derided and answered crisply : 

“ My Digby is all right — for a town and 
for me. If Grand-Pierre doesn’t like it that’s 
because he loves the woods and the fields bet- 
ter. Mere Marie used to say that there could 
be two rights easy enough. Right for one 
person needn’t be right for another. Same’s 
it’s right for Grand-Pierre to have his pipe 
and it’s right for Charlie Micmac not to have 
one. My ” 

“ Sugar ! ” 

Thus the lad under discussion announced 
his arrival upon the scene, and both girlish 
heads turned in his direction as he stood just 
within the doorway, arrested by his own bash- 
fulness, so to speak, afraid either to enter or 
retreat. He had heard the voices, but had 
supposed one might belong to Marian Melan- 
son. 

“ Hurry up, Charlie. This is Winifred 
Lawrence, and she’s never eaten hot short- 
cake and fresh butter. Never once. Think 
of that ! The tin-kitchen is hot as hot, and 


A Dinner Guest 


119 


do hurry — I've got the table all set. Here's 
the flour and the pan. Now, be quick. I'm 
so hungry seems if I couldn't wait. You see, 
Winifred, I can't cook much yet. I will burn 
the things. I've helped my mother some- 
times, but at Digby we have stoves," said 
Angel, proudly. Anybody can cook on a 
stove, but hearth fires are harder to manage. 
Mere Marie could do them right and so can 
Charlie Micmac. I'm just longing to have 
you taste his shortcake." 

There was no intentional flattery in this, 
though Winifred at first suspected it ; but it 
had the effect of rousing the Indian lad’s 
pride. Here was an opportunity to distin- 
guish himself before a tourist," one of that 
privileged class who had money and leisure 
enough to go jaunting all over Nova Scotia, 
easy as wink, if they wanted to, and never 
had to weed a carrot bed nor plow a field. 
Huh I and this especial tourist " was less 
wise than Angel. Not only was she ignorant 
of shortcake-making, she had not even ever 
eaten one I Huh ! Sugar ! He'd show her I 

He did. Bashfulness fled, and the finest 
chef in the world could not have as- 


120 Little Miss Evangeline 

sumed a more professional air than did the 
Indian lad as he proceeded in his task ; and 
never three more interested persons watched 
the preparation of a meal than these three 
young folks in Mere Marie’s sunny kitchen. 

To Winifred it was especially delightful. 
She had never seen a “ tin-kitchen ” before ; 
she had never seen cooking done in a fire- 
place ; she had never eaten butter so freshly 
churned; and she had never dipped fresh 
cream from the top of a wide pan into an 
earthen bowl ; indeed, she had never before 
drank from a bowl of any sort. 

Why, my face goes away down in it I and 
cream — cream to drink, when a body isn’t ill 
and a doctor orders it — how extravagant — 
and charming ! ” 

We don’t do it every day, it would take 
away from the cream-pot too much. But the 
pot’s empty now, just churning so ; and this 
cream isn’t old enough to skim. Aren’t we 
having a nice time? Ailsie, do use your 
spoon and not your fingers ; and don’t set 
aside that very buttery piece for Sandy. 
Why, pet, you’ve put more butter on than 
the cake is thick, and that’s greedy. Small 


A Dinner Guest 


121 


bairns shouldn’t be greedy, you know. 
Should they, Winifred?” 

Whereupon, the reproved child’s lip fell 
a-quiver and she cast an appealing glance 
into Winifred’s smiling face, who nodded 
kindly ; while Angel, as ever quickly re- 
pentant when she had grieved another, made 
haste to comfort : 

Never mind, sweetheart ! You’re not big 
enough to know everything, are you? and 
Charlie’s cake is so fine I’m going to fix a 
plate of it and some of this barberry jam for 
both the Sandys, and you shall carry it. 
Won’t that be fine ? ” 

Fine for them, but where’s our supper 
coming from? No bread, and you burn the 

mush, and I Well, a farmer can’t work 

outside and do cooking very often. Mere 
Marie used to say ‘ be just before you’re gener- 
ous.’ We ain’t hungry now, but we shall be 
by sundown. Big Sandy can fix his own 
victuals, as he always does. You better put 
all’s left in the spring-house, and shet-to the 
door this time. And hurry up. Come help 
with the weeding as you promised. Will she 
work, too ? ” 


122 


Little Miss Evangeline 

The reference to Mere Marie sobered Angel 
instantly, and sent a feeling of guilt into her 
heart. How had she dared be happy and 
forget the sorrow that was due? And she 
had been happy, she had forgotten during all 
that festive meal both the old Acadian and 
that other dreadful fact of the missing jar. 
She didnT understand why Charlie should 
turn cross and — and horrid I — all at once after 
seeming to enjoy himself and being so nice 
just before. She didnT even guess that his 
present loftiness was but a further show of 
pride. It had occurred to him while at the 
table that no other lad of his acquaintance 
did “ women^s work,” and that he had some- 
times been laughed at for his own deftness 
about the house. 

He left the cottage rather noisily, as a 
“ man ” should, and he left vexation behind 
him. 

Well,” cried Winifred, with the first 
touch of haughtiness she had yet shown be- 
fore Angel ; what an insolent puppy I How 
dare he dictate to you? And am I the ' she ' 
who is to ‘ work ^ for him ? The idea I 
What would my family say if they knew I 


A Dinner Guest 123 

sat at table with an Indian farm-hand? 
Humph I the presuming creature I 

Angel looked round from the table she was 
clearing, swiftly and promptly this time, and 
asked : 

'' Why, was that wrong, Winifred ? 
Shouldn't you have done it ? I didn't know. 
I'm sorry, but I never seem to do the right 
thing first. He's clean, Charlie Micmac is. 
Neater than I am, 'most. But I shall give 
Ailsie the shortcake I promised and go with- 
out myself to make up. That's easy enough, 
and if I'd rather give it to them than eat it 
myself how can it be anybody else's business ? 
If * going without ' was the only thing ! But 
— but — I'm in terrible trouble ! " 

“ Yes, dear, I know. But don't brood 
over it. M^re Marie looked very sweet and 
gentle that day. I don't believe she'd 
want to have you unhappy about her, nor 
think that it would prove your love any 
greater." 

0 Winifred ! If it were only that ! Bad 
as it is, the new trouble is bigger than that. 
It scarces me. I — I — must stay. I must. 
Maybe I'll forget it again, as I did just now. 


124 Little Miss Evangeline 

But when I think Winifred, isn’t steal- 

ing the worst thing in this world? 

Pretty nearly. Killing people is worse. 
But what do you mean? Who has been 
stealing anything in this lovely, peaceful 
valley ? How can anybody wicked live 
here ? ” 

Oh ! I know who has, and can ! Yet I 
dare not tell anybody. I dare not till Grand- 
Pierre comes. Nor even then. IVe just 
got 

The worried little housekeeper tossed her 
hands in a gesture of despair and proceeded 
with her task, speaking not another word till 
the few dishes had been washed and put away. 

Nor did Winifred interrupt her, though she 
watched with the keen interest she brought to 
all new things. She had drawn a tiny pad 
and pencil from the chatelaine bag she wore, 
and was busy with a miniature sketch of that 
cottage interior.^' As usual when at work 
in this way she totally forgot her surround- 
ings, except as they furnished her as models. 
But after a time she was recalled to meaner 
matters by her small hostess touching her el- 
bow and saying : 


A Dinner Guest 


125 

I’m going now to weed the onions. Will 
you come, too ? ” 

“ And — pull weeds ? ” 

don’t suppose you could do anything 
like that. Not with your legs. I’ll carry a 
chair for you, of course ; unless — is that boy 
who drove your carriage coming back soon 
for you ? ” 

I don’t suppose I could weed ^ with my 
legs,’ but I might with my hands ! I’ve a 
notion to try, if you’ll give me a box to sit on, 
low to the ground ; and I nodded to the boy 
to go home. He is to come for me at sunset. 
I begged the whole day from Ma’am ’Liza. It 
is my little experiment. Will that top-lofty 
Indian be our comrade of the onion patch, 
also ? ” 

Oh ! no. No, indeed I If he chooses on- 
ions, we’ll take carrots ! I You needn’t 

be near him again, if your family wouldn’t 
like it, and I wish — I wish I needn’t be, 
either ! ” 

Why, Angel ! I thought you two seemed 
real friends.” 


CHAPTER IX 


A WISE AND WILLING FRIEND 

The little Acadian plumped a wooden stool 
upon the ground beside a weedy row of young 
onions and helped Winifred to seat herself, 
carefully placing the crutches within reach 
and a basket between the rows, in such fashion 
that each worker could toss the pulled weeds 
into it and so keep the garden neat. But she 
did not answer her guesPs remark until she 
had done some serious thinking. Then she 
looked up and asked : 

Winifred Lawrence, you’re a little older 
than I, and must know more ; and s’posing 
— -just s’posing somebody you loved with all 
your heart had told you a secret that seemed 
so big you hardly dared to keep it all alone, 
would you — would it be right to find the 
wisest person you could and ask that one to 
share the secret with you ? Would it be 
right ? ’Specially, if the secret-giver had died. 
Would it? And — and if you guessed — if you 
126 



“MKRF. COMICS TIIIC VERY WISEST MAN 


)♦ 




A Wise and Willing Friend 127 

^most knew that somebody else had stolen — 
had meddled with that secret and wouldn't 

own up but just — just made it worse 

What would you do ? " 

In the first place I'd put weeds in the 
basket, instead of in my lap. In the second 
place I'd find that wise man and tell him 
everything. In the third place here comes 
the very wisest man I've found in this part of 
the world." 

Well, well, well ! Miss Winnie, I declare 
I'm delighted ! Nothing so good for people as 
getting back to mother earth ! And little 
Angel, how goes it? " 

It was good Dr. Dupont who had come and 
now stood rubbing his plump hands and smil- 
ing down upon the two girls with great satis- 
faction ; and Winifred was smiling back to 
him with perfect confidence and real affection. 
He was such an adorable doctor, because he 
never tried to make her feel that she was ill, 
and had banished all useless drugs from her 
room. 

Fresh air, fresh air, and again — fresh 
air I Self-forgetfulness, interest in your 
neighbors, and a belief in everybody's good- 


128 Little Miss Evangeline 


ness except one’s own. That’s my principal 
prescription, administered daily, though all 
my patients will not follow it. Try it. Miss 
Winnie, try it, and prove to that anxious 
Uncle and Aunt of yours that you are not at 
all an invalid. The trouble has been, my dear, 
that youVe been too well beloved. You’ve 
been coddled. You’ve had too much comfort, 
too little hardship. If you’d been born a lit- 
tle * Bluenose,’ without a king’s farthing to 
your name, instead of an heiress, you’d have 
been as lively on your legs as a cricket. As 

it is Well, the harm’s done now, but 

you can chase a deal of happiness out of life, 
still, even though you must hobble after it on 
crutches. If you can’t be as happy as some 
poverty-blessed youngster, just limp ahead 
and be as happy as you can ! ” 

This was the advice Dr. Dupont had given 
his temporary patient from the States, and 
she had both liked and disliked it. She had 
rather impatiently reminded him that it was 
different for her to feel the weakness that 
often came over her and for him to talk about 
it ; but she had added : 

I’m glad not to take medicine, and I’m 


A Wise and Willing Friend 129 

glad you order me to be outdoors. There^s 
so much to paint there. 

That’s right. Stick to the painting with 
all your heart till something better comes 
along.” 

“ But, Dr. Dupont, what is, what can be, 
better, more ennobling than art ? ” Winifred 
had asked, surprised. 

“ To love one’s neighbor better than one’s 
self,” he answered, with his grave, sweet smile. 

She could not see how this applied to her- 
self, though it seemed a sort of reproach ; but 
she felt that he was both wise and kind, and 
now when he came into the cottage garden, 
that he was the very best person in the world 
to comfort Angel. Leaning forward she 
begged her friend : 

“ Help me up to my crutches, quick, I want 
to go in a moment ; and — do you tell the doc- 
tor everything that worries you. You should, 
you must.” 

Angel did help Winifred to get upon her 
feet and swing forward over the ground to- 
ward the cottage, and would have gone with 
her ; but she was waved back, impatiently al- 
most, and again was bidden in a whisper : 


130 Little Miss Evangeline 

** Tell the good doctor everything I ” 

But Winifred had purposely made the 
whisper a loud one, so that the gentleman 
heard it ; and, as she limped away, he turned 
with a whimsical smile toward the little cot- 
tager, remarking : 

“ Miss Winnie thinks that ‘ sauce for the 
goose is sauce for the gander,^ also, I fancy. 
If weeding onions is good for her why shouldnT 
it be for me, eh ? 

And almost before she knew what he was 
doing he had seated himself upon Winifred’s 
stool and had grasped a weed and pulled it. 

“ My 1 but that’s a fine root of ^ pusley ’ I 
That ought to go to the pig-pen. When I was 
a boy about your size I hated pulling weeds, 
but now — I’d give all my old shoes — and 
some of my good ones — for a chance to dig in 
a garden an hour or two each day. I’ve heard 
some folks called ‘ meaner’n pusley,’ but even 
that despised plant has its merits. So does 
the meanness of other people. It sort of sets 
our own virtue in a beautiful gold frame, eh?” 

I don’t know. I never thought. Dr. Du- 
pont ; but I don’t like mean people,” answered 
Angel, now tugging away at the weeds with a 


A Wise and Willing Friend 131 

vigor she had not shown before. Here was 
this — to her — great man, his white cuffs 
pushed back, his smooth hands all grimed 
with loam, working away as if his life de- 
pended on it, and continually hitching his stool 
further and further along the row, seeking 
fresh weeds and leaving a beautifully clean 
and weedless onion bed behind him. 

Race me, Angel ! IVe only a little time 
to spare, and let’s see which can do the most 
in that time. Ah ! I like it, I like it ! 
There’s no odor so sweet in my nostrils as the 
good brown earth ! It’s pleasanter than — 
than some drugs I know ; asafetida, for in- 
stance. Ever smell it? Hope you’ll never 
have to. Well, little girl, what’s amiss ? ” 

O sir ! May I tell you ? Will it be 
right? ” 

“ Right as a trivet ! If anybody can explain 
why a trivet, a three-legged stool, is more 
right than anything else — let him step for- 
ward and do so. Move that basket nearer, 
please. We’ll have to empty it soon. This 
ground is in just first-class condition for weed- 
ing. It’s a positive pleasure to see how easily 
the roots come out and the soil crumbles back 


132 Little Miss Evangeline 

into its place. So empty your worry-basket 
at the same time. But, maybe, I can give 
that same worry a tilt sidewise, to start it 
tumbling out. You see, little girl, a doctor, a 
good doctor — such as I would like to be — 
makes his heart into a bank for the keeping 
of his patients' secrets. Eh ? Hit the nail on 
the head, did I ? It’s a secret, then ? Well, I 
believe I know it already. Hitch along. 
Don’t stop to stare or I shall beat you all hol- 
low. Mere Marie bequeathed you a pretty big 
contract, eh ? ” 

Why — Dr. Dupont I What ” 

Oh ! my dear, that blessed dame’s great 
* secret ’ was common property. For some 
years past she has had a royal scheme and an 
impossible one. It was to bring back all the 
Acadians who had been exiled from Grand 
Pre ; to build a monster ^ Home,’ or else a lot 
of cottages, in which they should be housed 
and where they could end their days in hap- 
piness and peace. But — such a mighty ^ but ’ 
as it is ! — all these her ^ people ’ were scattered 
more than a hundred years ago, and must 
long since have become dust and ashes, find- 
ing their last ^ home ’ on some foreign soil.” 


A Wise and Willing Friend 133 

You — knew — all — about it, Dr. Dupont? 
almost gasped the astonished Angel. 

Surely, all the valley knew. You see, my 
child, though dear Mdre Marie had not out- 
lived her bodily activity, which was the most 

wonderful I ever knew, she had Dear 

me! How shall I best explain it ? Well, it 
was as if she had simply traveled backward in 
her mind as fast as, or faster than, she had 
gone forward in age. She believed that she 
was herself one of the original * exiles.^ That 
she was one who had, in 1755, fled to the 
woods and been succored by the Micmacs ; 
and that these whom she wanted to bring 
back * home ^ were only those who had sailed 
in that dark year to whatever one of the 
‘ States ' would receive them. She was, I've 
heard, saving her money, all she could lay 
hold of, for this purpose." 

Angel had stopped weeding, and knelt on 
the bit of mat she had brought, her earthy 
hands clasped and her great, dark eyes flxed 
in absolute amazement upon the doctor’s face. 

Why, I thought she believed that nobody 
should know anything about it till she had 
all the money it would take to pay their pas- 


134 Little Miss Evangeline 


sage ^ home ^ to the house she had built. I 
was to help her. It was to be my own life 
work, after she should ^ pass.’ So she said. 
She told me I was named ‘ Evangeline ’ ‘ of a 
purpose.’ I was ^ dedicated,’ she said. It 
frightened me. I Oh ! I don’t under- 

stand.” 

I do. I see that I’ll have to take hold of 
your row and help you out. My dear, it was 
a harmless, a beautiful hallucination. That’s 
a long word, but means simply a blunder, a 
‘ wandering of the mind.’ It hurt nobody. 
It helped to keep our dear, venerable Acadian 
in health and activity long beyond the ordi- 
nary time. It gave her an incentive to live. 
If she sometimes forgot and confided her 
^ secret ’ to others, that was only natural. But 
it was an impossible dream, and so you must 
regard it. You are not to live for a dream 
but for a long, happy, unselfish life. Now, 
Angel, is ‘ that ghost ’ laid? ” 

Gradually the perplexity on her face had 
given way to a vast relief and she now clapped 
her hands with a glad little cry : 

Oh ! I thank you, I thank you ! It 
seemed so strange — as if I never, never could 


A Wise and Willing Friend 135 

even begin to do what she wanted. I am so 

poor, and so young, and But I was 

proud, I am proud to be an Acadian ! I want 
to help them wherever I meet them, and — 
and I'd like to be just such another splendid 
woman as my precious Mere Marie ! ” 

Amen ! " cried the doctor, heartily. Be 
as like her as you can in all rational ways. 
She spoke no ill of her neighbors, she was 
open-handed to those poorer than herself — the 

only person to whom she was ever stingy 

And — she didn’t believe in doctors. But 
when I came to this countryside, a struggling 
young student, she made Pierre Brevard shoe 
my horse and keep my buggy in repair, for 
nothing. When I offered her medical attend- 
ance, in return, she laughed in my face, and 
I never gave her a dose of medicine in my 
life. But she sent me lots of patients. She’d 
a good word for me everywhere, and I miss 
her. So, you see, I called this morning to in- 
quire if I could help you, any way, and if 
there was word come yet from Pierre Bre- 
vard ? ” 

No. Not a single word. Oh I if he would 
only come ! ” 


136 Little Miss Evangeline 

The doctor rose, rubbed the loose soil from 
his hands and said : 

Now I must go. Unless I can do some- 
thing for you besides weeding onions. I shall 
have to step around to that back door and 
wash off this mud. Oh I I know the way. 
But — there^s one thing more. Angel, do you 
need anything? And do you know what 
Mere Marie did with the money she had ac- 
cumulated ? Mrs. Melanson said it was a big 
sum, and she doesnT think it should be left in 
the cottage. She suggested that I should call 
and take you and it back with me to Wolf- 
ville and have it put in a bank, till your 
people decide about it. After you go home to 
Digby, Charlie Micmac will be at the Melan- 
son farm. Big Sandy also, and it wouldnT be 
safe here.” 

They had come to the back door and the tin 
basin standing on the bench beside it. Angel 
was already dipping water into it from the 
pail, and the doctor rubbing a bit of the soft 
soap upon his hands when, with one of her 
impulsive gestures, Angel tossed her own 
hands aloft — dipper and all. Down came the 
water on her visitor's shoulder as she cried : 


A Wise and Willing Friend 137 

“ Oh ! but it^s gone already ! It wasn’t 
safe. Somebody has stolen it ! Somebody 
who ” 

“ Evangeline Brevard I What do you say ? 
This is very serious ! Explain yourself.” 

It’s gone. It was in a big, big, heavy old 
jar, in a place she hid it. I know. She 
showed me. I earned a half-dollar letting 
Winifred Lawrence paint me, there in the 
old church. It was my first help toward that 
* Home Fund,’ as she called it, and I took the 
jar to her to let her put it in. After dinner 
we were to count it, she and I, but — she went 
blind and — you know all that part. After- 
ward, I went to look for it and it was gone. 
Clean gone. What shall I do ? What shall 
I do?” 

“ Who knows this ? How many have you 
told?” 

“ Nobody. Not one. Except — except ” 

Except whom ? ” demanded the physician, 
sternly. 

“ The one — except the thief I ” cried Angel, 
wringing her hands, yet wonderfully relieved 
to have this second, terrible burden off her 
mind. 


138 Little Miss Evangeline 


“The thief? Angel, take care! Be sure 
you know him — or her — before you utter 
such an accusation. The most dreadful in 
the world, almost. 

“ Oh I I^m sure. And it near breaks my 
heart. Mere Marie so loved him and was so 
good to him. So you see we canT put it in 
the bank, as you said, and the cottage won’t 
be left alone. I’m not going home to 
Digby. I can’t. Mere Marie gave Grand- 
Pierre to me, and I must stay and take care 
of him.” 

The doctor whistled and dried his hands 
upon the roller-towel ; then he muttered 
something about : All mad together ! ” 

But aloud he exclaimed : 

'‘Take care of your grandfather? You a 

child, untrained, and he Well, Pierre 

Brevard is a man who needs a deal of ' taking 
care ’ ! I should say that this contract was 
about as big an one as the Acadian project. 
Also, that what applies to one must to the 
other. Mere Marie was not capable of judg- 
ing in this matter, any more than in the 
larger scheme. Naturally, you will go back 
to your father’s house and your grandfather 


A Wise and Willing Friend 139 

with you. Probably, this cottage and farm 
will be sold for his benefit. The Melansons 
will readily buy it. Don't look so indignant, 
my dear. Common sense, that is. You'll 
see it, presently. Meantime, keep your sus- 
picions about the money to yourself, until I 
see you again. It is quite likely Mere Marie 
disposed of it in some other place than that 
you saw and it will come to light. It must 
come to light ! Theft is a new thing in our 
old Acadian neighborhood and I, for one, 
don't believe it. I must go now, my dear. 
Any time you want to go home, if Pierre 
Brevard doesn't come soon. I'll get your ticket 
for you and put you on the train in the con- 
ductor's care for Digby. Good-bye." 

The doctor turned away and Angel followed 
him. 

Thank you. Dr. Dupont, but you won't 
have to do that. I shall stay here at Grand 
Pr6 with Grand-Pierre." 

“ Tut ! He isn't here. He may be gone all 
summer." 

“ I guess he won't. Anyway, I must stay. 
M^re Marie told me. It was her dying wish. 
Don't you remember ? " 


140 Little Miss Evangeline 

She did not realize what she was asking. 
You can’t, child. Don’t you see that? ” 

“ Beg pardon, but I must. And what I 
must I can.” 

Angel did not mean to be impertinent, but 
she flashed a deflant look upon her kind 
friend, and tossed her dark head with a fa- 
miliar gesture ; while the gentleman half- 
frowned, half-smiled and retorted : 

And what you must not you cannot, my 
dear. Heigho 1 Here’s Miss Winnie, hopping 
round the corner and holding up her hand 
to detain me still longer. Upon my word, 
my patients will all get well without me, if I 
don’t hurry away ! 

But Winifred’s smiling face was a pleasant 
diversion to his thoughts, far more perturbed 
than Angel knew ; and he greeted the new- 
comer gaily : 

“ What now. Miss Winifred ? Have you, 
too, a ^ secret ’ to unburden ? Or are you go- 
ing to chide me for taking away your job of 
onion-weeding? ” 

Both. First, are you going that way, 
past the Melanson farm?” 

To be sure. To the farm itself. Ned has 


A Wise and Willing Friend 141 

been eating green apples again. It’s his be- 
setting sin, and I’m called in. So very, very 
green the apples must have been, so early in 
the season, but off from the ^ harvest ’ tree, I 
suspect. Why ? ” 

Will you take me with you in your 
buggy ? ” 

‘‘ With pleasure. And Angel, too, if she 
wishes.” 

No, thank you, I must go back to my 
work,” answered the little girl, with a rather 
wistful smile on her lips. 

Some other day then, Angel,” said the doc- 
tor, cheerily, and she tried to feel the cheer. 

However, it was a disappointment to lose 
her friend just then when she so wanted to 
tell her all about Mere Marie’s great Secret ” 
and its being no secret after all ; and it did 
not add to her comfort that just as Dr. 
Dupont was helping Winifred into his buggy, 
she saw Charlie Micmac rush to the gateway 
and stop them for a moment. She couldn’t 
hear what he said, but she saw his hand go 
up in a threatening manner, heard the 
doctor’s hearty Glad of it ! Didn’t believe 
it I All a mistake, of course.” 


142 Little Miss Evangeline 

Then they were off and her housemate 
came sauntering back to the garden, his hat 
pushed to the back of his head, and his 
narrow eyes as defiant as her own had ever 
been. 

There, Miss Angel ! I guess Tve put a 
spoke in your wheel,^^ he said. 


CHAPTER X 


WHAT I MUST I CAN 

An hour later, with the speed all horses 
show on the homeward way, Dr. Dupont’s 
sorrel mare, Kate, dashed past the cottage 
gateway. The doctor holding fast to the 
reins had time but to turn his head and smile 
at Angel, still diligently pulling weeds, but 
Winifred thrust her hand out at the back and 
waved it gaily. Her face was bright and a 
little feeling of resentment against her rose, 
for a moment, in the cottager’s heart. It 
seemed unfair that one girl should be so care- 
free and another so bound by “ duty ” ; be- 
sides, she had expected Winifred to stay all 
day and she was lonely. 

However, she soon put aside the feeling, 
ashamed of it ; thinking : 

That’s meanness. That’s to be jealous ; as 
teacher told us last winter, it’s a contemp — 
some kind of a big, bad word feeling. She 
said jealousy didn’t often hurt anybody ex- 
143 


144 Little Miss Evangeline 

cept the one that felt it. Odd I that I should 
want to hurt myself, then ! She said, too, 
that the best way to get over it was to do 
something for the one you were jealous of. I 
wonder what I, just poor little I, can do for 
Winifred Lawrence ! I’ll watch and find out. 
There must be something. There always is 
something, I guess. And — I wish Charlie 
Micmac wasn’t mad. Seems if just two folks 
in a garden ought to speak to each other, 
doesn’t it. Jimmy-cat ? Where have you been, 
runaway, all these days? I’m glad you’ve 
come back. Grand-Pierre’s Jimmy-cat ! I 
love you ! ” 

Angel could hardly believe in the reality 
of Jimmy-cat’s return, even though that 
truant, who had disappeared on the same day 
with Pierre Brevard, , and was that old man’s 
especial pet, was now rubbing his furry sides 
against her cheek held low for his caress. 
But it made her happy. It was one thing 
more that was natural about the lonely cot- 
tage. Standing up, she called out : 

O Charlie ! Charlie Micmac ! ” 

The boy had his back toward her and pre- 
tended not to hear ; but at her shrill an- 


what I Must I Can 


H5 

nouncement : Jimmy-cat’s come home ! ” 

he got up and ejaculated : “ Sugar ! ” 

But there was as much pleasure in that one 
word as even she felt and he hurried across 
the space between them to stoop and pat the 
creature and to murmur : Nice Jimmy-cat I 

Pretty Jimmy-cat ! Where’s the boss, 
Jimmy-cat ? ” 

Here I Here I ” screamed Angel, sud- 
denly tossing the little animal aside and run- 
ning toward the road, heedless of trampled 
garden-truck or anything else but the fact 
that there was Grand-Pierre I Safe, sound, 
home again ! 

Grand-Pierre I Grand-Pierre I ” 

** Cherie ! Petite ! My Angel ! Art glad 
of the old man once more ? Ah ! it is well, it 
is well. Great is the forest, small is the 
home ; yet the home outmeasures the forest, 
ten to one ! ” 

Ah I dear Grand-Pierre ! Jimmy-cat told 
me you were on the road. Even now he 
came and told me ! ” 

** The bad cat I Did I not take him for 
what the hunters call a * mascot,’ and 
brought us the luck, he ? Not one bit, not he. 


146 Little Miss Evangeline 

indeed, no. Worse yet. One of the hunters 

spied a moose and killed it; and I 

Well, if one’s gun goes off of itself what help? 
And if a caribou falls, out of ^ season,’ is Pierre 
Brevard to blame ? But that was why. Two 
hundred good Canadian dollars must be paid 
for the one and the other. For me, too, the 
heavy fine. What of that ? These rich ones 
from the States laugh at laws and fines, and 
the ‘ open season ’ for them is — when the 
moose is in sight. Salmon were plenty and 
their license to take them good. I, even I, 
caught more than we could use, big camp 
though we had. But after the caribou and 
the moose, more shooting, yes. With the 
so small accident. A man was shot, also. 
Home then the word, bringing the spoils 
with us.” 

0 Grand-Pierre I A man shot ? Killed ? ” 
demanded Angel, frightened. 

“ Pooh, child ! Must one die for every 
buckshot? Then had I been a ghost long 
ago. A mere trifle, a flesh wound that a real 
“Bluenose ’ would forget, but a rich American 
must brood over with dread. * To the doctor ! 
To the surgeon ! Else the poison in the blood ! ’ 


^ what I Must I Can 147 

was the cry. As if a clean wound like that 
could poison even a flea. 

“ So all this flne summer of camping fell to 
naught. But back we come and the good of 
this ^ ill wind ^ will be to that Dr. Dupont we 
know. Ah ! ha ! After all, home’s the best ; 
and how’s Mere Marie, sweetheart? Was it 
she set my Angel a-grub for weeds, this sunny 
day? Where bides she? I see her not.” 

Angel covered her face with her hands and 
sobbed : 

Nor ever will, Grand-Pierre ! Nor ever 
will again ! They — they have buried her in 
the churchyard, and onl}^ you and I are left.” 

The old man reeled and dully repeated her 
words, as if he did not understand them. 
Then their full meaning came upon him and 
he put out his hands toward her, half-blindly, 
and pitifully crying : 

“ Take me within ! Out of the sun, out of 
the happiness of such a day. Only thou and 
I, little Angel, only thou and I ! Ah, me ! 
The blow has fallen — at last. From this day 
forward Grand-Pierre is an old, old man.” 

It seemed as he said — that age had suddenly 
descended upon him. His stout knees shook 


148 Little Miss Evangeline 

and his hands trembled ; and as she would have 
guided a little child Angel led him within the 
living-room and at his motion closed its door 
upon him, leaving him alone with his grief. 

She did not see him again till the sun was 
setting, when he came out and joined Charlie 
Micmac at the barn, busy about the duties for 
the night. There a few questions and an- 
swers were spoken, and Angel was spared 
from giving any sorrowful details. Instead of 
that, and despite her aching muscles, she sped 
indoors and got him the'* best supper the cot- 
tage would afford. With a pathetic attempt 
to make her hot biscuits equal those of Mere 
Marie’s, or even Charlie Micmac’s, she pre- 
pared and set them before him ; and though 
they were miserably heavy and sodden, he ate 
them, noticing nothing amiss. 

Later, he called her to him, sitting on the 
door-step in the moonlight, and drawing her 
close to him, spoke thus : 

“ Angel, you are but a child to keep a house, 
but you must do it. I will trouble as little, 
help as much, as I may. I want few things 
and one is — this old home. They will be tell- 
ing us, the wise neighbors, what we ought and 


what I Must I Can 


149 


ought not to do. One will be that I sell the 
smithy to Farmer Melanson as has always 
wanted it, and M^re Marie^s farm with it. 

* M^re Marie, ^ he would say, ‘ an old woman 
like you should go to Digby. You have 
earned a long rest. Mere Marie, and in the 
dull winters Pierre Brevard will have a snug 
corner in some big store to sit and gossip with 
other idlers. I stand ready with the money 
in hand to buy you out and add your land, 
that lies so handy close to mine, to my own 
farm. I have sons growing. I wish to pro- 
vide home-farms for them, also, as the Aca- 
dians used.^ ” 

“ But our M^re Marie was so wise. She 
could read down underneath his words his 
real motive. I guess that.^^ 

** Swift, child Angel, as that swallow’s flight 
yonder. So she always answered, kind and 
firm : ‘ I thank you ; yet never, good neighbor, 
will I or mine sell the land that is ours. Out 
of the sea our forbears saved it and by our 
own will it shall never leave us.’ So we will 
obey, Angel, even if we may not so wish. 
But you, cherie, will it be too hard ? There 
is much to do and little hands love play.” 


150 Little Miss Evangeline 

“ No, no, oh, no ! It will not be too hard, 
though I shall not do it well, I am so small 
and so unwise. Things will often be — like 
our poor supper biscuits. My arms are too 
short to beat up the feather beds as she did. 
When I tried to wash the churn I nearly fell 
into it, it was so deep — like a well almost. 
Oh ! there’s no end to the things I cannot do I 
But there’s no end either to my loving and 
trying. Only I wish these were as big — as 
Cape Blomidon over there ! Then I could 

do Oh, I should do well, indeed ! ” she 

answered, stretching her red-clad arms, now, 
alas, sadly soiled and, as Mere Marie would have 
called the rumpled sleeves, a disgrace, yes.” 

Pierre Brevard was more grave than Angel 
had ever seen him. This was natural enough, 
but it kept her from adding to his troubles by 
speaking of Mere Marie’s open secret ” and 
the money she had saved for it. She listened 
quietly while he went over his past life ; tell- 
ing how he had married and lost his wife ; 
how they two had lived in the shut room,” 
as it was always called, because nobody used 
it any more ; how their baby Michael ” had 
also grown to manhood and married Lucette, 


what I Must I Can 


»5i 

a pretty Acadian lass, and had made his home 
in her native town. 

“ More children than money have your 
parents, cherie. They will spare you all the 
year round as they have always done for the 
summer. We will be comfortable, you and I. 
I will come from my attic and sleep in Mere 
Marie’s own room. We will open the * shut 
room ’ and it shall be yours. Charlie Micmac 
shall have mine. What ails the lad, that he 
stays behind at the barn so long ? He was 
ever used to be foremost in the talk ; and 

I Well, there’s no harm if I hear what 

has befallen my neighbors while I was * guid- 
ing.’ Big Sandy is a poor hand to talk even 
if I bade him do so ; and by now he is already 
teaching the bairns their catechism. He is a 
good man, Sandy Wylde. I felt I could leave 
him in charge and lose not a penny was my 
due.” 

Why, but — dear Grand-Pierre ! Isn’t he 
always in charge ? When did you ever ” 

Looking into his face she suddenly checked 
herself The idle old fellow had assumed a 
stern, businesslike air, and with great em- 
phasis now demanded : 


152 Little Miss Evangeline 

“ Evangeline Brevard, am I not Pierre, the 
Smith ? For tvvoscore years have I not shod 
the fine horses for which this countryside is 
famous ? Big Sandy, indeed ! He is a good 
man, a fine farrier, but — I taught him. Call 
that Indian.’’ 

Greatly abashed and impressed, the little 
girl ran barn-ward calling Charlie Micmac, 
Jimmy-cat at her heels, licking the milk from 
his chops and, apparently, as glad to be at 
home again as she was to have him. 

And oh ! do you know, Charlie, Grand- 
Pierre saw a green heron in the woods I He 
told me, and he said we would go seek it some 
day soon. He thinks it had a nest near and 
that we might get a young one and tame it 
for our own. When we get the garden done 
and the hay cut and — and everything else 
done right.” 

Huh ! By that time them young nest- 
lings ’ll be old as Grand-Pierre is ! Work 
ain’t never done in this house, nor world, 
either ! And I’ve got a job. I’ve got to whet 
the sickle, and get at the briars in south field, 
first thing to-morrow morning. I guess I 
won’t bother to come set.” 


what I Must I Can 


J53 


Why, Charlie Micmac ! How terribly in- 
dustrious you are ! 'Course there's a lot to do, 
there always is ; but — we haven't got to work 
evenings, have we? Besides, Grand-Pierre 
wants to hear the news. What he wants he 
always has, you know, so you might as well 
come. And oh ! good news for you ! Grand- 
Pierre says he will sleep in Mere Marie's own 
room and you can have his nice big attic, 
'stead of the little lean-to closet, and I — 'stead 
of my trundle bed in Mere Marie's room, I 
may have the ^ shut room ' for my very own. 
Think of that ! Makes me feel so grown up 
I almost want to have my dress let down. 
Yet that would be a bother. You run talk to 
him while I open my fine room. It's not so 
* shut ' as it's named, because Mere Marie al- 
ways kept it aired and sweet, with the bed 
ready-made, ^ case^we had company come,' she 
used to say. That meant, she hoped my 
father . and mother would come some time and 
need it ; but they never have and now it's to 
be mine. Why, I shall almost feel lost in it, 
it's so big ; and to have it to do as I choose 
with My ! " 

Charlie Micmac tried to retain the forbid- 


154 Little Miss Evangeline 

ding frown he had worn ever since the 
doctor's visit, but failed. The idea of ex- 
changing his cramped sleeping-quarters for 
the wide and airy ones which extended over 
the entire cottage was so delightful that he 
could not disguise his pleasure. “ Sugar I " 
he cried, ecstatically ; then suddenly remem- 
bered that he was offended, that he meant 
to forsake the cottage that very night for the 
farmer's employ, and that he still cherished 
spite against Angel for her suspicion of his 
honesty. 

Oh I I mean, I'm mad. I'm leaving. 
Mere Marie's dead and there ain't nobody 
here worth living with. Nobody 't would 
ever give me my hundred dollars and ^ free- 
dom suit,' same as all good bound-out boys 
get when they come of age. Only, I wasn't 
bound. I was just took. So I'm free to quit 
or stay, either one." 

Angel had been helping him toss hay into 
the manger for the colt he was raising and 
that was to be his own by and by, as Mere 
Marie had promised ; but she stopped now, 
short, and stared at him for a moment. Then 
she burst into such merry laughter as had not 


what I Must I Can 


155 

passed her lips since the day of her great 
trouble. 

I should think you were * took ^ I With 
the biggest foolishness. You silly boy ! 
What’s the matter with you, anyway ? Isn’t 
Grand-Pierre at home once more ? Isn’t 
everything going to be just lovely — as lovely 
as it can — now? Come. Race me to the 
door-step. He’s watching us and wondering 
why we delay so. He has sorrow enough. 
Don’t let’s worry him even in a little tiny 
thing like this.” 

Angel Brevard, what did you tell him ? 
About that money ? Did you say ’t I stole 
it ? Did you ? Same ’s you did the doctor ? ” 
cried the Indian lad, fiercely clutching her 
shoulder and with no pretence in his anger 
now, it was so surely real. 

The girl wriggled herself free and faced him 
contemptuously. 

No. I neither told him nor the doctor. 
I’d be ashamed. To Grand-Pierre I haven’t 
said a single word about money, lost, found, 
or stolen, so there ! Why should I ? and he 
just learning about — about dear Mere Marie. 
Oh ! how ashamed of you, of me, she’d be I 


156 Little Miss Evangeline 


As for you, you won^t even let me forget, 
though I try.’^ 

With that she darted away to rejoin her 
grandfather, and while Charlie Micmac hesi- 
tated to follow and impart the neighborhood 
gossip, which none gathered more industri- 
ously than himself, there came a shout of 
laughter down the road and in at the gateless 
gap in the fence rushed the twin Melansons. 

O Angel ! Such news ! Such splendid 
news I Something's happened that will 
please you to pieces ! Something that you 
couldn't dream of ! Heigho, ^ Uncle ' Pierre I 
When did you get home? Listen till I 
tell I " 

With that both Marian and Archibald 
began talking excitedly and together, so 
that though Charlie Micmac strained his keen 
ears, and even though their voices were 
loudly pitched, he could hear but a jumble of 
sound, while they thus imparted their 
splendid " piece of news. 

Sugar ! That's the time I bit off my nose 
to spite my face I " ejaculated the disgruntled 
lad, and sauntered forward with an outward 
indifference but inward eagerness. But he 


what I Must I Can 


>57 


arrived too late. The twins were gone before 
he reached the spot where they had tarried so 
briefly. As to their news, Grand-Pierre cared 
not a whit about it, had scarcely heard it, in- 
deed ; and Angel would not inform him. 
Both the old man and the girl had fallen 
into a reverie and had forgotten all about 
Charlie Micmac. 


CHAPTER XI 


A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 

Say, Angel Brevard, what ’d them 
Melanson twins come to tell ? Did they say 
anything about me? ” demanded Charlie Mic- 
mac as Grand-Pierre rose from the bench be- 
side the door and went in to seek his bed, 
while the girl dreamily followed. 

About 3^ou ? Why should anybody talk 
about you, silly boy? You are always top- 
most in your own mind, but other folks don’t 
feel that way. You ask that question till I’m 
tired of it ; and — I’m too tired to talk at all. 
I never worked so hard before, as I have to- 
day, and I want to go to sleep. I guess I’ll 
keep to my trundle-bed this one night more, 
though it is so short for me this year that I 
have to curl my toes up not to hit the bottom. 
To-morrow I’ll fix that ^ shut room ’ just the 
way I like it, and sleep there, maybe, if it 
isn’t too lonesome.” 


168 


A Chapter of Accidents 159 

“ Sugar ! You can talk enough, if you are 
tired, ^bout things of your own. So you^re as 
conceity as I am.'^ 

The reproof was so just that Angel laughed, 
then informed him : 

Marianas news was only that Mrs. Melan- 
son is going to take boarders again this year ; 
and the ones she’s taken are Winifred Law- 
rence and Ma’am ’Liza. That’s why Winifred 
went away with the doctor ; to make arrange- 
ments, Archie said. Seems if that girl could 
do anything she wanted to, without asking 
grown-up people ! ” 

Sugar ! Quit living in a big hotel to go 
stay at a farmhouse ! I wouldn’t do that, not 
if I was rich like the tourists are. But Mrs. 
Melanson’s a prime cook and maybe — I 
reckon — hmm. If I shouldn’t be here in the 
morning, Angel, you can tell Pierre Brevard 
I’ve gone to hire with Farmer. He’s been at 
me, time and again, and — you can tell him. 
If I’m gone.” 

But you’ll not be gone, Charlie I Please 
say that you won’t ! Why, however could we 
get along without you ? Who would do the 
outdoor work ? Grand-Pierre never did, you 


i6o Little Miss Evangeline 

know, and I’m so little — 0 Charlie I Don’t 
be mean ! ” 

Angel was wide awake enough now, and 
greatly disturbed. Her half-day at weeding 
had taught her how hard work ” really was. 
She was very tired, and though the news that 
she would have Winifred Lawrence for a next- 
door neighbor, so to speak, had pleased her, 
she had almost forgotten it now. 

I ain’t mean. I never was. And 

Well, maybe I won’t go to-morrow, nigh-hand 
off so, after the boss has come. I’ll let him 
get rested a bit from hearing ’bout Mere 

Marie ; and then It’s your fault I’m 

going. I told the doctor you’d accused me 
of stealing, and that I hadn’t never. Not a 

cent. Never in my life. And I shan’t 

stay in no place where folks think hard of 
me ; . where the pay ain’t forthcoming, and 
where a fellow’s either got to cook his own 
victuals or eat burned porridge. Mrs. Melan- 
son’s porridge ain’t never burned, I bet a 
cooky ! ” 

“ I shan’t bet with you, and you haven’t 
any cookies to bet with. You can be good or 
bad, just as you choose. I’m going to bed. 


A Chapter of Accidents i6i 

and you must make no noise. Poor, precious 
Grand-Pierre must be terribly tired from his 
camp trip, for he^s asleep already/^ 

“ Him tired ! Sugar I In all his eighty- 
odd years old Pierre Brevard never done a 
hard day^s work in his life, but he’s a master- 
hand to drive other folks to it. Huh ! ” 

With this muttered observation, Charlie 
Micmac pulled off his rough shoes and climbed 
the attic stairs, to lie upon the most luxurious 
bed he had ever known and to wonder, drow- 
sily, if the hired help at Melanson farm were 
cushioned upon the softest of “ live geese ” 
feathers, plucked and cured by so careful a 
person as old Mere Marie had been. 

Always givin’ the best to that lazy Pierre, 
and me cornin’ in for it now. Seems if these 
pillers are as sweet-smellin’ as that bunch 
of May flowers growing on the hill-pasture. 
My ! Ain’t this nice I Su-g-a-r ! ” 

The word ended in a yawn and a snore ; 
and in the room below, Angel had rolled her 
own trundle-bed from under that on which 
her grandfather slept, had knelt beside it and 
said her prayers, then sleepily undressed and 
crept within the sheets. Jimmy-cat came in 


i 62 


Little Miss Evangeline 

at the cat-hole, at the bottom of the lean-to 
door, and curled himself on the cushion of 
Mere Marie's rocker ; and, in another instant, 
utter silence fell upon the cottage and its in- 
mates. Though the doors were shut, not a 
key had been turned, nor a curtain drawn ; 
and the moonlight shone through the open 
window with almost the brightness of the sun 
— so clear and cloudless was the night. 

Angel was the first to wake. For the mo- 
ment she lay still, with housewifely care 
planning what should be for breakfast. 

It must be something better than scorched 
porridge for my darling Grand-Pierre ! But 
it's early yet. I don't hear even Charlie Mic- 
mac stirring, and my dear here is still sound 
asleep. I want — I know what I'll do. I'll 
hurry and dress and run to the churchyard 
now. I may get too busy afterward, and I 
shan't want to leave Grand-Pierre. I can 
gather the roses as I go and say my prayers 
beside Mere Marie's grave. I couldn't miss 
going some time, and now is best. She isn't 
there, I know, not really ; but seems if she 
must know I don't forget her. Mrs. Melanson 
said I better keep away from the churchyard. 


A Chapter of Accidents 163 

’cause it didn't do either Mere Marie or me 
any good ; but she didn't know. It does do 
good. It helps me to remember the things 
she would have liked and that I am so apt to 
forget. I guess I'm about the fastest forgetter 
in the world. S-sh ! Jimmy-cat ! You may 
go, of course, only don't ^ meouw ' I and talk 
about it ! " 

Thinking thus and softly whispering to the 
cat, which had leaped down from the chair 
and was stretching itself and mewing its 
good-morning," Angel dressed, hurriedly 
washed in the basin outside the door, ran a 
comb through her wet curls, and left them to 
arrange themselves as she sped over the path 
and onward to the old Covenanter church. 

Roses are plentiful in Nova Scotia, great 
hedges of them lining the roads almost as if 
planted by some trained gardener's hand ; 
and gathering hands full, as she went, Angel 
came swiftly to the mound she sought and 
reverently knelt there for the morning devo- 
tions to which she had been always trained. 

But this time there was no sorrow in her 
heart. Grand-Pierre was at home — her best- 
beloved in all the world : and that world was 


164 Little Miss Evangeline 

SO wondrously bright and gay that summer 
morning I Care ? What was a bit of care to 
a girl who was well and strong and so eager 
to learn ? Who loved others as she did ? 

“ Pooh ! Jimmy-cat I S’posing I do get 
tired? S’posing my arms do ache and the 
fire does scorch my cooking ? A body can do 
but just one thing at a time and learn one 
thing. Teacher had a motto hung in the 
schoolroom last winter, something some great 
wise man wrote. His name was — no matter 
what ; but it was all about doing things one 
thought they could do, and right at once. 
Never stopping to be afraid, but just go ahead 
and do ! So home now, to begin that house- 
keeping for Grand-Pierre, and sure, sure that 
I can — because I will ! 

Home, indeed, it was and to burst in upon 
her grandfather with the very joy of life 
shining from her face and in her sparkling 
eyes ; and by one clasp of her loving arms 
banishing, so it seemed, the grief which had 
aroused him from his night of sleep. 

Such a fine breakfast followed I Charlie 
Micmac forgot to be grumpy and came in from 
the barn in time to lend a hand at the cook- 


A Chapter of Accidents 165 

ing, with the result that everything was done 
to a turn. Nor did anybody worry about the 
morrow, least of all Grand-Pierre, who seemed 
the youngest child of the three. What if they 
had used twice as many slices of bacon as 
Mdre Marie would have done ? All were hungry 
and enjoyed them. Fresh laid eggs could be 
sold for groceries, but what were eggs for if 
not to eat ? As for the potatoes, at that season 
very low in the bin, who would not rather 
have them piping hot from their nest in the 
ashes, than carefully saved for seed ? 

“ Now, I must wash ! Charlie Micmac, 
fetch the pounding-barrel, and help me with 
the water-pots. I haven^t got used to lifting 
them yet, but I will by and by. Only enough 
for the scalding. 1^11 rinse the clothes in the 
brook and spread them on the grass to dry. 
Pve seen my mother wash, lots of times, and 
there^s a new barrel of soft soap in the spring- 
house. I mean to be just as good a house- 
keeper as dear M^re Marie was. It was al- 
ways done on a Monday — but I didn^t think. 

Before he remembered that he was to ** leave 
that morning, the Indian lad had rolled the 
great barrel forward and filled it with water 


i66 Little Miss Evangeline 

from the well. Into this Angel dumped all 
the soiled pieces of clothing she could find, 
regardless of quality or color ; and to each 
piece she gave a plentiful smearing of the 
strong soft soap. Then she called Grand- 
Pierre. 

“ Come, dear heart ! The pounding’s 
ready I ” 

It had been Mere Marie’s primitive method to 
have the most of the dirt forced from the soak- 
ing linen by means of a heavy wooden pestle, 
long of handle, and worked up and down by 
some person standing beside the barrel in 
which the clothes were placed. This opera- 
tion was the sole domestic one which M^re 
Marie had required at her son’s hands ; and 
he fell to it now with a vigorous menace of all 
soil. 

Almost unconsciously, too, as he pounded 
he sang ; and paused in his singing merely to 
tell stories about his latest hunting trip. 
Angel splashed away at the dish-washing ; 
Charlie Micmac lingered in a vain pretence 
that his sickle needed still more grinding, and 
listened, open-mouthed, to the wonderful ad- 
ventures Pierre Brevard narrated. 



AS HE POUxNHEl) HE SANG 









A Chapter of Accidents 167 

“ Yes, but yes ! It is the close season and 
the fine terrible, terrible ; but when a moose 
thrusts its wide horns betwixt a man and the 
distance, what must he do ? Big ? The crea- 
ture’s head and prongs are bigger by far than 
that stuffed one of mine on the wall yonder. 
What I never yet, in all my years in the 
forest, could understand is why the animals 
can be bothered with such mighty prongs. 
Yet, ’tis most beautiful, indeed ! When they 
come to the thick, hindering branches, back 
fall the wide antlers and brush aside the 
branches, no harm done. Harm? Eh, what? 
Cherie, little Angel, why interrupt Grand- 
Pierre and cry out like that? Tis startling 
and I like not Is the pounding fin- 

ished?” 

Oh ! Yes — yes — yes ! What have you 
done, Grand-Pierre ? What — have — you — 
done ! ” wailed the little housekeeper, who had 
come to take a peep into the barrel, and to 
turn over the articles within it so that each 
should be properly beaten. This she had seen 
Mere Marie do, time and time again, and she 
was copying that skilful housemistress in all 
the things she could remember. But never, 


i68 Little Miss Evangeline 

in all the old dame’s peering, could she have 
come upon a sight like this. 

By now all three heads were bent above the 
barrel, marveling to see the pure water with 
which it had been filled become a brilliant 
red ; but it was Charlie Micmac who solved 
the riddle and shifted the blame from Uncle 
Pierre ” to Angel, herself. 

“ Sugar I If you ain’t gone and put one of 
your red dresses in the bar’l and soft-soaped it 
to beat I If you ain’t a dummy ! Sugar ! I 
should think a girl — a girl that would bime- 
by be a woman — ’d have known better’n that ? 
’Course, the color would run — ain’t no color 
in cloth will stand soft soap and not run ! 
Should thought you’d had more sense. 
Shouldn’t wonder a mite if you’d spoiled the 
whole kerboodle of ’em. Say, Angel Brevard ? 
Did you put my white shirt in that there 
bar’l ? My Sunday shirt ? ” 

’Course. I put everything, every single 
thing. It’s away down at the bottom ; ’cause 
I remembered hearing Mere Marie say once : 
* Always wash your fine things first.’ I knew 
you felt terribly * fine ’ in that bosomed shirt 
— but I tell you right now, I shan’t ever dare 


A Chapter of Accidents 169 

to iron it, for I don’t know how. Of course, I 
thought ^ first ’ surely meant down at the bot- 
tom. But ” 

“ Here ! Stand aside ! And you needn’t 
worry ’bout the ironing ! That shirt that 
Mere Marie made and stitched with her own 
hands, won’t need no more ironing. ’Twon’t 
be fit for a dog nor ” 

“ Then it might do for Jimmy-cat ! ” inter- 
posed Grand-Pierre, who began to laugh. He 
was about as ignorant as Angel of the matter 
in hand, his knowledge of laundry work hav- 
ing been strictly confined to the pounding ; 
but he was amused by the extreme earnestness 
and ferocity of the lad whom he had often 
teased concerning his love of finery. 

I don’t see nothing partic’lar funny in 
this here doings, I don’t ! Here, Angel, stand 
aside ! You’re in the way ! ” retorted Charlie, 
as he hastily pulled the dripping garments 
from the barrel and heaped them in the tub 
he had pushed to its side. 

Angel’s other frock,” her only other” 
one, came first. It was sadly splotched and 
stained, in varying shades of yellow and 
purplish crimson, and hopelessly ruined, so 


170 Little Miss Evangeline 

far as beauty went. Charlie’s blue overalls — 
they had gone into the barrel blue but 
emerged a dismal purple ; the roller-towel, 
once snow white, now pink ; and so on down 
to that treasured shirt which its owner held 
aloft, with a despairing gesture and a look of 
intense reproach toward Angel. 

“ The coat of many colors, yes ! ” exclaimed 
Grand-Pierre, freshly amused by the absurd 
looking garment and by Charlie’s horrified 
expression. Cried he : 

“ Why this ado ? Is there not a brook full 
of water running past the garden ? Has not 
Mere Marie often and often washed the linen 
there, rubbing it on the stones and rinsing 
it up and down many times, yes ? Then 
upon the grass, as cherie has said. Up 
with it I Lift the tub, my boy, by its one 
handle and Iby the other, and to the stream 
away ! ” 

To him this accident seemed most trivial. 
After the great sorrow which had befallen 
them all, why worry about a few stained gar- 
ments ? In fact, despite his seeming levity, 
the heart of the old man was sad within him. 
All his long life he had so leaned upon, been 


A Chapter of Accidents 171 

petted by, his mother, that it seemed he could 
not do without her. Yet he loved little Angel. 
To him she was the very light of the world, 
the fairest, bonniest child the Lord had ever 
given it ; and because he had noted at once, 
how her young face would often droop into a 
sober gloom he hated her to feel, he had made 
merry as he could that she should also 
brighten. Also, with the readiness of age, he 
could forget at times all save the present mo- 
ment. 

Charlie Micmac picked up one side of the 
wooden tub, as he had been bidden, and with 
such a vicious suddenness that he tilted it 
sidewise and sent some of its dripping con- 
tents splashing against Grand-Pierre’s legs. 
The old man immediately dropped the handle 
he had grasped, with even worse results to all 
concerned. Out rolled the sudsy mass of 
clothes, the pinkish water spread in all direc- 
tions over the floor, Angel screamed, and 
Grand-Pierre nimbly hopped aside. 

It was angry Charlie Micmac himself who 
received the worst drenching, and he was 
muttering, furiously threatening, and fast 
working himself into one of his great rages, 


172 Little Miss Evangeline 

when the old man suddenly held up his hand 
for silence. 

Other childish screams from the outside 
were drowning Angehs half-hysterical ones, 
screams that were shrill with terror and dis- 
tress. Listening to them, the trio in the 
kitchen forgot their own dismay, for it was 
the bairns who were now bursting headlong 
into the room, shrieking : 

“ My father ! My father Sandy is all 
killed dead ! My father, my father I 

Little Sandy’s face was pale beneath his 
freckles, and clinging to the tail of her broth- 
er’s jacket, Ailsie echoed : 

“ All deaded ! My father, my father ! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


BLACK JACK MAKES TROUBLE 

Angel caught Ailsie to her and folded her 
close, but Pierre Brevard and Charlie disap- 
peared on the instant. Full well the old man 
guessed what had happened. Through the 
window he had seen a workman from the 
Melanson farm leading a fractious, unbroken 
young horse toward the smithy. 

The animal was well known in that region 
for a fine blooded but most vicious creature, 
and one that the farmer had long and vainly 
tried to subdue. Now, pressed with the sea- 
son's work, he had made another attempt, 
meaning to put the horse to the heaviest tasks 
possible with the hope of conquering his ugli- 
ness. To Big Sandy, of course, had fallen the 
shoeing of Black Jack, but the creature had 
resented the handling, and had revenged him- 
self upon the unfortunate smith. 

When they came to the forge there the big 
fellow lay, prone on the earthen floor, ghastly 
173 


174 Little Miss Evangeline 

white and bleeding from an ugly cut upon his 
temple ; and Charlie Micmac threw up his 
hands with a curious wailing sound that 
chilled the blood in his master's veins. 
Grand-Pierre turned upon the lad, fiercely : 

“ Shut up, boy ! One is not dead when 
blood fiows I Fetch water, quick I and lead 
that villain out of the way ! ” 

Charlie hesitated. The “ villain " being 
none other than Black Jack, who having 
accomplished his purpose and freed himself 
from the hands of the blacksmith, now stood 
perfectly quiet at his tether, looking down upon 
his victim with his evil eye ” in almost hu- 
man intelligence. 

But a second glance at poor Sandy, mingled 
with fear of the stallion which might turn 
upon him also, made the Indian advance 
toward the beast’s head to untie the halter. 
But he was saved that task, for, annoyed by 
Charlie’s slowness, Grand-Pierre himself 
jerked the halter loose and led the beast 
across the road. There he let down a bar 
and sent the animal scurrying into an open 
field to kick up its heels in delight of fresh 
freedom. 


Black Jack Makes Trouble 175 

By this time Angel had come on the scene, 
the children still clinging to her, and it was 
she who was first with the big tin dipper and 
the water that Grand-Pierre knelt to use upon 
Big Sandy^s head. 

The doctor I One of you, quick ! The 
doctor, yes I He is not dead ! He must be 
saved. You, Angel, speed ! It is for a life. 
Micmac — lift him up I To his bed, at once. 
Years has he served us, faithful Sandy I But 
now this trouble I Well, it were well to be 
done with the world and its evils, if — if it 
were not for the bairns I 

Charlie Micmac had all the superstition of 
his race, with the added ones of that country- 
side. For a moment he shrank from touch- 
ing the poor farrier, so suddenly dead, as he 
still believed, for as yet there was no sign of 
life. But a fresh order from his master, who 
for once looked and acted like Mere Marie 
herself, forced him to lay hold of Sandy’s 
feet. Yet he dropped them again, for one leg 
fell downward in a most peculiar manner and 
frightened him afresh. 

Simpleton, thou ! Have you no decency 
in you ? Nor kindness ? The leg is broke — 


176 Little Miss Evangeline 


that’s all. ’Twixt knee and ankle — broke 
like a dead tree branch. Up with him, gently 
now, and strong. Think — and if it were 
yourself how he would handle you ! ” 

Charlie did think. Once he had been ill 
and Big Sandy had nursed him. Not even 
Mere Marie had been more gentle than the 
silent farrier, and a memory of those dark 
days of pain sent a sudden moisture to the 
lad’s eyes and infinite pity into his heart. So, 
though he half closed his eyes that he might 
not see the white face of his friend, he put all 
his own strength with that of Grand-Pierre, 
and together they carried the unconscious 
man to his own bed. There they undressed 
him and sat down to wait ; little Sandy and 
Ailsie now quietly standing within the door- 
way of the inner room and gazing sadly upon 
the motionles form of their beloved father. 

Meanwhile, Angel had dashed outward 
upon the road to Wolfville and the doctor’s 
home ; but midway the cottage and the 
church she met a carriage from the town and 
without hesitation sprang into the middle 
of the driveway, tossing her arms and or- 
dering : 


Black Jack Makes Trouble 177 

Stop I Stop I You must turn back I 

The doctor — Big Sandy's hurt " 

The driver halted, else he would have rid- 
den her down. She had seized the horse's bit 
and was already herself attempting to force 
the wagon around when a voice called back : 

Angel I Angel Brevard, take care I What 
is it that you say ? You'll be run over " 

O Winifred I My Sandy's killed I I'm 
running for the doctor, but a horse is swifter I 
Grand-Pierre is home, he sent me. It was 
that wicked horse of Farmer Melanson's, sent 
to be shod, and has kicked my Sandy dead ! 
O Winifred ! Isn't it too awful to be true ! " 
By this time she had run round to the side 
of the carriage from which Winifred leaned, 
she and Ma'am 'Liza having been on their 
way to their new boarding place, against 
which the colored woman had vainly pro- 
tested. The old nurse preferred the service 
and comforts of a hotel to the best boardin' 
housen ebah kep' " ; but she had been 
directed by Mr. and Mrs. Winslow to indulge 
their niece in all reasonable requests. 

Dere I done tole yo', lil Miss, somepin's 
boun' ter happen ! I jest natchally knowed 


lyS Little Miss Evangeline 

it when folks tu’n deir backs on good ernuf 
an^ go rampagin’ roun’ fo’ fa’m-housen an’ dis 
yere notionalness. I tole yo’ was gwine to be 
trouble an’ now yo’ done met it on de way. 
An’ it’s mo’ bad luck yet, tu’nin’ back onct a 
body has set out on a jou’ney, dis yere way.” 

O Ma’am ’Liza! Do stop 'croaking.’ 
Dr. Dupont approved my going, and he 
knows that farmhouse well. Get in, Angel, 
and ride back with us. It’s the doctor’s 
morning office hour — we’ll be sure to find 
him in, and we can fetch him with us, instead 
of waiting for his own horse to be saddled. 
On the way you can tell us everything,” said 
Winifred, herself greatly shocked but hoping 
to comfort Angel. 

" No, no, I must go back I You fetch the 
doctor — quick, quick, quick 1 Maybe he isn’t 
dead, oh 1 maybe I And drive fast, man, 
good man I Please, please drive fast I ” 

With that the little girl sped homeward 
again, hastening on tiptoe to Big Sandy’s 
room and the watchers there with the news 
that she had sent messengers back for the 
doctor, faster than she could have gone. 

"Winifred Lawrence? Who is she? I 


Black Jack Makes Trouble 179 

know her not?” said Grand-Pierre, going 
with her to the outer door, whither she had 
hurried, to put her arms about the farrier’s 
children in a tender, comforting way. 

‘^Oh! she’s just — just a tourist, I guess. 
But I love her. She’s my dearest friend. 
She’ll make the man drive fast. She’ll be 
back soon. She ” 

“ A tourist? What would she care? And 
you trusted our Sandy’s life to her, cherie ? 
How could you ? ” cried the old man, re- 
proachfully. 

She does care. Tourists have hearts, 
have they not ? She was here when — when 
the end came to Mere Marie. She is good, 
good ; and she is a cripple. Always on two 
crutches she must walk, poor thing. Ah ! 
don’t you fear. Those who suffer themselves 
can best pity other sufferers. Mere Marie 
herself said that one day. Wait, she will 
come. Don’t sob so, Ailsie. Father Sandy 
will get all mended and well again, when 
once that wise, good, kind doctor comes. 
Hush, dearie, hush ! ” 

The child’s piteous sobs were growing 
louder all the time, and Angel cast an anxious 


i8o Little Miss Evangeline 

glance backward toward the inner room and 
the silent figure on the bed. Never before 
had little Ailsie, her father’s “ sweet wild 
rose ” grieved in his presence and he not 
striven to comfort her. The thought shot 
through Angel’s heart, and roused her to 
say : 

Come with me, children. We can do 
nothing now, till the doctor comes and — 
what do you think ? I have spoiled all the 
clothes I tried to wash ! Maybe we shall be 
busy with — with other things, by and by ; 
will you help me now to carry the ^ wash ’ to 
the brook and see if I can rinse them 
clean ? ” 

To wait in idleness was beyond Angel’s 
power, and the little ones were readily di- 
verted from their grief by the prospect of this 
new thing. 

You see, you’re getting quite a man. Little 
Sandy. Full big enough to help carry wet 
clothes over a bit of garden. We can’t lift the 
tub, of course. That’s too heavy, but a basket 
we can and will. Wait. I’ll drag the tub 
to the door if you’ll help me ; then we can put 
the wet things in without spilling any more. 


Black Jack Makes Trouble i8i 

My heart I What a sight ! However, how- 
ever, shall I make things right again ! 

For the moment all three forgot the larger 
trouble in contemplating “ this mess I All 
sorts of garments were mingled in a drizzling 
heap on the floor where Charlie Micmac had 
tumbled them, and little streams of pinkish 
water were trickling from them in every di- 
rection. Already in the bare boards which 
Mere Marie had made Charlie keep scoured to 
wondrous whiteness were settling stains that 
might never, perhaps, be quite removed. 

Turkey red ” is a fast dye ; as fast in 
wood as in the cotton fabric which Angel’s 
mother had found so serviceable for her 
daughter’s frocks. But fortunately, Angel did 
not at present know this. 

“ Such a lot of scrubbing Charlie Micmac 
will have to do to get this clean, won’t he, 
Ailsie, sweet?” she cried, tiptoeing between 
the red trickles to reach the basket in the 
lean-to. 

Such a lot ! Such a lot ! ” echoed the 
little maid, bending over the reddest puddle 
of all to dabble her hands in it and to deepen 
the pink tint of her own frock by fresh 


i 82 Little Miss Evangeline 

splashes. “ Pretty water ! Pinky water ! Ail- 
sie loves pinky water. .Such a lot ! 

“ Take hold, Little Sandy ! Here we go ! 

The girl had put but few pieces into the 
basket, thinking less of Sandy’s strength than 
she pretended to him, and with a rush and 
swing they caught its handles and started for 
the brook. Several trips they made before 
they had carried all to the rinsing place, 
where was the big, flat stone on which Mere 
Marie had used to stand at her task. And on 
the last trip back to the cottage Angel was 
amazed to see Charlie Micmac already en- 
gaged in that scrubbing he hated and never did 
except upon compulsion. Repentant for the 
trouble she had made, Angel exclaimed : 

“ Why, Charlie 1 How good of you to do 
that ! But — but — I would have tried myself, 

after I had rinsed the things and if — if 

Oh ! do you think Big Sandy will come to life 
again ? Do you ? ” she implored. 

“ No, I don’t. If he ain’t dead already he’s 
nigh-hand to it. He’s broke. Broke all 
to smash. Head and legs and all. And 
^wouldn’t never do to have a funeral with 
the house in such a state. ’Course, if he 


Black Jack Makes Trouble 183 

hadn’t been killed I’d ha’ left this job to you, 
because it’s your fault. But I wouldn’t like 
the neighbors to come set, with things this 
shape. Mere Marie wouldn’t like it.” 

Angel lost her temper. She forget that it 
was always the Indian lad’s propensity to look 
upon the dark side of things. She had 
often heard her light-hearted great-grand- 
mother chide him for the habit, saying : 

“ Why talk as if the dear Lord enjoyed 
hurting His children, son ? All’s in the day’s 
work. Weeds of worry and flowers of frolic. 
Be gay, lad, be gay ! ’Tis so God means us 
to live.” 

“ You hateful, mean, horrid boy ! ” cried 
Angel now, indignantly. Isn’t there trouble 
enough without borrowing it ? I felt sorry, a 
minute ago, about the floor, but you drive 
the ' sorry’ all away with your dreadf^ul funeral 
talk ! There’s nobody dead. There shan’t be 

any more — Mere Marie Oh ! I can’t bear 

it ! There shall never another funeral come 
in this house, so there! You’re frightening 
Ailsie into a fit. See that child’s eyes 1 How 
dare you ? I — I Oh 1 what shall I do ? ” 

With that the overwrought girl caught 


184 Little Miss Evangeline 


Ailsie in her arms and ran as fast as she could 
go back to the brookside and the arduous task 
before her. There her excitement gave to her 
arms an unusual vigor, and such a splashing 
up and down as followed would have promptly 
restored the stained garments to their original 
colors — had this been possible. 

Alas ! it did not ; and the temporary energy 
of the novice’s arms gave way to a tremulous 
weakness. Presently, she began to cry, and 
Ailsie promptly did the same. She had till 
then been an interested observer of Angel’s 
movements, had even tried a bit of splashing 
on her own account — with disastrous results. 
Leaning a trifle too far over the big stone’s 
edge, she fell head first into the stream. It 
was very shallow, and Ailsie had often tumbled 
into it, but not in such a state of nerves as at 
present. 

Even little children do get nervous,'’ 
though many grown folks laugh at the idea, 
and Ailsie was sensitive to a fault. Though 
Angel quickly drew the child back from the 
brook, the little one had suffered a fresh shock 
and her tears gave place to screams. 

Angel’s own tears stopped at once, and she 


Black Jack Makes Trouble 185 

began to coo over Ailsie with that motherly 
fashion of hers, and to wipe the mud stains 
from the beloved pinky frock. So en- 
grossed was she that she did not hear the 
sound of carriage wheels, nor of anything save 
the running water and Ailsie’s frightened ac- 
companiment of shrieks, till the point of 
Winifred’s crutch gently tapped her shoulder. 

Why, Angel Brevard I Whatever in the 
world are you doing ? Hush, Ailsie, darling, 
the good doctor has come, and will soon fix 
your father all nice and ' comfy.’ He’s com- 
ing to, fast. There’s a bad wound on his 

head and his leg is broken, but ” 

“ Charlie Micmac says he will die. Will 
he — must he? And how soon you came. 
But, I can’t have the funeral — I can’t, I 
can’t ! ” 

I should say not. What put such a horrid 
notion into your head ? And can’t you make 
room on this big stone for a visitor to sit down ? 
A dry spot, if you please. My gown is just 
fresh from the laundry and I hate messed 
clothes.” 

The stone was, indeed, thoroughly splashed 
over all its surface, save that part of it which 


i86 Little Miss Evangeline 

had been covered by AngeFs own person. 
She promptly moved aside and Winifred as 
promptly and coolly seated herself, laying her 
crutches on the ground behind her and care- 
fully gathering her white linen frock into the 
smallest possible space. Then observing the 
objects spread around she asked : 

^‘Will you please tell me what you are 
doing ? 

“Rinsing the clothes, trying to get the 
stains out.^^ 

“With your tears? You look as if you 
might have shed enough. And Ailsie, too. 
Why should you do that, a girl like you. 
Isn’t there a laundress to do it? ” 

“A laundress? That’s a washerwoman 
cleans things for tourists, I suppose. I guess 
most Nova Scotia folks, the ones I know, do 
it for themselves. It’s part of housekeeping. 
Mere Marie did. My mother does. Mrs. 
Melanson does, only sometimes there’s extra 
folks working on the farm and she has to get 
one of the village ladies to do things for her. 
She says it’s dreadful extravagant, but she 
can’t help it. Why even Big Sandy does, 
since Janet died. It’s our way in this country. 


Black Jack Makes Trouble 187 

Maybe we^re not like your folks in the States, 
but it's our way, so it's quite right for us," 
returned this loyal little Bluenose," true to 
the thrift she had always seen about her in 
the humble homes she had visited. 

Oh, I beg pardon, if I have offended you, 
Angel. I guess from the toss of your head that 
I have. Of course, it’s right if it isn’t too 
hard for a girl, and you — like it." 

I don’t say I like it, though I thought I 
should when I began ; and I felt so proud to 
do it, because I had to. What you have to do 
you must like, whether or no ; " and again, 
now that Ailsie was silently observant of 
the visitor — thus leaving her free — Angel 
bent to her task with a determination to con- 
quer it. 

What makes the things look so funny ? 
That white shirt you’ve been dip-dip-dipping 
all the time has a spot on it that might have 
come from my palette — set with oils, you 
know. What happened to it ? " 

Then out came the whole story, which 
struck Winifred’s fancy as ludicrous, but 
which was serious trouble to Angel ; till the 
visitor’s laughter finally awoke some sense of 


i88 


Little Miss Evangeline 

the absurd affair in the cottager’s mind and 
she laughed too. Then she cried : 

How heartless of me ! With Big Sandy 
lying hurt and ” 

“ Hurt, but going to get well in good time ! ” 
cried the doctor’s cheery voice, as he came up 
to them in time to overhear her words. '' In 
good time — though a long one. I have set 
his broken bones and made him as comfortable 
as I could. Still, it’s a bad job, and a most 
unfortunate matter all around. The farmer 
folk^ of Grand Pr6 can ill spare their faithful 
blacksmith.” 

For the first time this aspect of the affair 
came to Angel. With Big Sandy sick who 
would do the farrier work of the old forge ? 
Charlie Micmac could not. Would Grand- 
Pierre ? How strange it was going to be, in any 
case. Angel went back to the cottage wonder- 
ing what they would all do. 


CHAPTER XIII 


WOULD-BE HELPERS 

Winifred had stopped at the Brevard home, 
leaving Ma’am ’Liza to go on to the Melanson 
farm, there to settle their belongings in their 
new quarters. It rather went against Mrs. 
Melanson’s pride to have a colored woman as 
parlor boarder,” and she had named a price 
she thought would preclude acceptance of her 
terms. But Winifred had calmly replied : 

That will be all right ; but we shall expect 
every reasonable attention. I shall require a 
separate table and Ma’am ’Liza to wait upon 
me, as she has always done. After I have 
finished she eats at my place.” 

Ve-ry well. Of course,” assented the 
mistress of the farmhouse, slowly and with 
evident disappointment. Already she was 
regretting that she had not asked a still greater 
price, since this strange girl from the States 
appeared to care so little for the value of 
189 


. igo Little Miss Evangeline 

money. Also, she was sorry that this table 
arrangement would exclude her own children 
from intimacy with Winifred. She had won- 
dered at the rich girhs fancy for Evangeline 
Brevard, and considered that her own Marian 
would be a preferable companion. 

That morning, as Ma’am ’Liza, grumbling 
at the lack of stat’onar ” bowls in the bed- 
rooms and the difficulty in obtaining hot water 
for her young lady’s early bath, had gone 
about the task of hanging the stores of beauti- 
ful frocks in the wardrobes and closets, Mrs. 
Melanson had remarked : 

I suppose you know that Mere Marie 
Brevard was as crazy as a loon. She was a 
good woman, in a way, but had really lost her 
mind. Had outlived it, and it was well she 
died. No knowing what she might have done, 
some time. She had absolutely spoiled Evan- 
geline, who has a temper like gunpowder. 
That child — hmm. It’s not so long ago 
she actually took hold of my Archibald and 
shook him. Shook that big boy ” 

“How come she done it?” inquired the old 
nurse, placidly smoothing the wrinkles from 
a white silken coat. 


Would-be Helpers 191 

** Why, just some childish nonsense. I be- 
lieve it was something about a frog — a 
boarder I had last year liked frogs' legs. 
Archie had caught one, cut off its legs and 
let it go — he'd often done so — and Angel 
flew into a rage that scared the other chil- 
dren almost into fits. She told him he was 
cruel, and with her own hands caught up a 
great stone and fairly killed the frog. ‘ To 
put it out of pain,' she said. Oh ! the chil- 
dren have to be careful about angering her, 
and I think that your Miss Winnie should 
know about it. Forewarned is forearmed, 

you know. My ! How pretty 1 Does your 
girl always wear white ? " 

“Allays, 'cept sometimes. Winters, co'se, 
she's done dressed in welwet an' fur. She's 
de apple ob deir eyes to her paw an' 

maw." 

“How did it happen she stopped at the 
smithy instead of coming home with you ? " 
“ 'Cause she's allays on han' wheah dere's a 
chance to help. I'm gwine, too, bime-by. 

But 'tis Winnie's way to hab eberyting in 
order fust han'. Pshaw ! I did hab dem 

hotel rooms fixed up mighty nice an' home- 


192 Little Miss Evangeline 

like, I sutney done did. I doan^ see what- 

ebah No matteh. Now I'se gotten de 

clones hung in de clawsits, I reckon I bettah 
ax yo^-all hitch me up a rig an’ I’ll done step 
back to dat dere fo’ge an’ see. Law suz I 
Ma’am ’Liza didn’t spect she’s cornin’ to no 
such outen de way co’neh ob dis yere ’arth, 
to go a nussin’ crazy folks and hoss-kicked 
blacksmifPs.” 

Poor Ma’am ’Liza’s discontent found an echo 
in Mrs. Melanson’s breast. The board-money 
she was to receive would be a fine addition to 
her bank account, and she did not mind the 
extra labor involved. Yet, there were limits 
to everything ; and the idea of being ordered 
to supply a rig ” for this negress, at a time 
when every horse on the place was in use, 
vexed her. She had purposely refrained from 
visiting the smithy herself, despite her curi- 
osity concerning the accident, because it 
had occurred at the hands — or heels — of her 
own property. Otherwise, she would have 
hurried to Big Sandy’s bedside and made her- 
self mistress of the situation. For a moment 
she hesitated, then said : 

Nobody who has two good feet needs a 


^93 


Would-be Helpers 

carriage to take them to old Brevard^s. Their 
land, what there is of it, joins ours, and it’s a 
mere step. I’ll slip along with you, for a 
minute, and show you the path ’cross lots. 
I’ll be back in time for dinner-getting ; and 
let me see : Soup, fish, a broiled chicken — 
some sort of dessert — hmm. All right.” 

To this prudent housekeeper such a menu 
seemed extravagant, but she would provide it 
for once. A good dish of baked pork and 
beans, a hearty soup that was not a mere first 
course but a substantial dinner, with pudding 
or pie as a come after,” such fare was far 
more nourishing than trifies, and so she 
would promptly convince these new boarders 
when they had once tasted her cooking. 
There was nobody in the Province could beat 
her at that art. She knew that well. She 
had always carried off first premiums at the 
annual Exhibitions up in Halifax, and had 
enjoyed the honor of having the Governor 
himself praise her bread and butter. This 
reflection fortunately occurred to her, at that 
moment, and banished the frown from her 
brow, and sent her briskly out of the room to 
attend to a few kitchen matters. Then, from 


194 Little Miss Evangeline 

the foot of the stairs, she called, quite 
cheerily : 

“ Come, Ma'am 'Liza, let's be stepping along I 
Time's money hereabouts ! " 

The old nurse lumbered down the steps, as 
yet unused to their steepness, and joined her 
hostess at the door. But her rheumatism 
was bad that morning and she certainly was 
in a most disgruntled frame of mind. She 
had taken a dislike to Mrs. Melanson, and 
that excellent matron returned the feeling. 
The truth was that both were what Pierre 
Brevard called masterful " and liked to be 
supreme in any affair. 

However, the farm-wife tried to make the 
walk a tolerabl}^ pleasant one, though her 
swiftness was sorely tried by Ma'am 'Liza's 
slowness. She could have made the distance in 
a quarter of the time her companion required, 
but she beguiled the way with information 
concerning the household they were to visit : 

“ A queer lot, the whole of them. Proud as 
a piper because they are ' Acadians ' — which 
some of us don't consider a matter of pride. 
The old lady was accumulating money to send 
all over the world and fetch the descendants of 


Would-be Helpers 195 

the ^ Exiles ’ back to this region. Of course, 
that was one of her crazy notions. She 

She didn’t seem none crazy to me, po’ ole 
soul ! I done watched her to the las’, an’ she 
suah seemed lak a po’, ti’ed lil chile winnin’ 
home to its mammy’s ahms. I ain’ nevah 
laid out no purtier co’pse,” objected the nurse. 

Mrs. Melanson shivered. She was too full 
of the vigor of life to enjoy the mention of 
death, and she hastened to add : 

I was going to say that they would be 
fairly well to do. My husband will buy their 
strip of land and the shop with it. Already 
he’s sent word to town for a good blacksmith 
to come take over the business while Big 
Sandy is laid up. Doubtless, old Pierre and 
his grandchild will go to Digby, where his 
son, her father, lives. Their hired man, who 
never got a cent of wages and only a sixpence 
now and then for spending money, will come 
work for us. He’s an Indian, a descendant of 
another ancient race and as proud of it, al- 
most, as Mere Marie was of her own. Oh ! 
they’ll do very well, indeed. The only thing 
is Big Sandy. We’ve tried to hire him, but 
that was when he was well and strong. He’s 


196 Little Miss Evangeline 


the real head of the Brevard family, after 
Mere Marie herself. He’s been there ever 
since he and Janet came, a runaway couple 
from old Scotland to the new. I — I certainly 
cannot be bothered with a sick man on my 
hands, not now, with all the summer work to 
do. I reckon he’ll have to be sent to the 
nearest hospital, for the new blacksmith will 
need the forge-rooms for himself and family. 
Pity ! Sandy Wylde was surely a most ex- 
cellent farrier I ” 

Hmm. Umph I ” was Ma’am ’Liza’s only 
comment. Her mood was changing. Though 
she had scorned the idea of nursing a “ hoss- 
kicked ” blacksmith it had needed only Mrs. 
Melanson’s own objection to so doing to rouse 
all her sympathy. Her brief interjection 
meant, had the other woman understood it : 

How come a sufferin’ body get tu’ned outen 
house an’ home, high-handed, dis a-way I 
Reckon ole ’Liza Law’ence ain’ gwine see no 
injestice done, if she can prevent it.” 

They came at last to the forge and the sick- 
room ; where the great smith lay prostrate, 
for the first time with an indefinite idleness 
before him. Physical pain he could bear with 


197 


Would-be Helpers 

grim patience — but his bairns ! With Janet 
gone, himself like this, who would care for 
them ? He turned his mild eyes with a piteous 
appeal upon Mrs. Melanson as she entered. 
Ah ! she would know. She would advise. 
Maybe, why maybe she would even take the 
little ones back to the farm and care for them 
there, herself! 

But her first words, uttered in the most 
cheerful of tones, dispersed all such notions : 

“Ah, well, Sandy Wylde, this is most unfor- 
tunate. But we’ll soon have you out of this 
and into a comfortable hospital bed, where 
you’ll get fine attention. I know Dr. Dupont 

will arrange it for you ; and the expense 

Why, of course, my husband will pay some- 
thing on account. It wasn’t his fault, how 
could it be? that it was our Black Jack which 
kicked you. It might have been anybody’s 
horse, and it’s all in the way of business. 
Rather a risky one, blacksmithing is ; but, 
fortunately, John knows of a man, at Wolf- 
ville, who will likely come and take your 
place. How soon would you like to be moved ? 
Is there anything I can do for you ? ” 

Arousing no response from Sandy she had 


198 Little Miss Evangeline 


talked on and on, hoping to do so. But the 
response came from quite another quarter. 
Pierre Brevard rose from the corner where he 
had been sitting, quiet and apparently unob- 
servant, and said : 

Beg pardon, good neighbor, yes. But our 
Sandy lies where he is yet till the broken 
bones heal. He has well served me and mine. 
Tis our turn now, why not? But thanks, 
yes. And that new farrier you mention. I 
— do I know him ? If he comes, to me is the 
business, so I think. ' Brevard’s ’ has been this 
forge, for a hundred of years and more. 
‘ Brevard’s ’ it will still be, and so you may 
please mention to your good man, with thanks 
for his so great kindness. We are neighbors 
all, in peace and good-will, but the ordering 
of a man’s household, that is to himself alone. 
Yes, is it not ? ” 

As Mrs. Melanson afterward expressed it, 
her astonishment was so great that she could 
have ^‘been knocked down with a feather.” 
This was not the old lazy, careless Pierre she 
knew. There was a dignity and manliness 
about his bearing altogether new and strange ; 
and for a moment even her glib tongue was 


199 


Would-be Helpers 

at a loss for answer. When it came, it was 
tinged with a greater respect than she had 
ever accorded the old man, and to her credit it 
was that she bore him no ill-will for the 
setting-down^^ he had given her. 

Why, of course, Pierre. I only meant to 
lend a hand in your time of need. I suppose 
— probably — well, I will run over again this 
afternoon. Ma’am ’Liza, are you ready ? Or 
will you wait till noon, when the ox-team 
comes back from town, where it’s been with a 
load of hay to sell ? Miss Winnie thought she 
would like to ride to the farm in it, and has 
arranged to have it call for her.” 

“ I’ll wait, thank yo’, ma’am ; I ’low dere’s 
somepin yere needs doin’. Come to Aunty, 
lil one. Lemme bresh dem purty cu’ls o’ 
yo’n.” 

Ailsie, peeping in at the doorway, came 
shyly forward. She had seen Ma’am ’Liza 
before, on that sad day of Mere Marie’s stroke, 
and was now less afraid of her than of the 
sterner Mrs. Melanson, who rarely met the 
child without a little chiding for some fault. 
Half-way the distance she made a dash for- 
ward and threw herself headlong upon the 


200 


Little Miss Evangeline 

old nurse, who caught her with a laugh and 
hug; and by that outburst of childlike con- 
fidence, little Ailsie had unconsciously secured 
much comfort for her injured father. 

A comb fetched from the shelf and with the 
child upon her lap, Ma^am ^Liza reduced the 
tangle of yellow hair to a dainty neatness ; 
then she led the little one to the pump and 
scrubbed her face and hands, Ailsie sub- 
mitting with mute wonder and satisfaction to 
this. Commonly she struggled against her 
cleaning,” as Big Sandy termed such opera- 
tions. But Ma’am ^Liza’s touch was more 
skilful than the man’s had been and most ex- 
ceeding gentle. She loved all little children 
and Ailsie was a child more than usually 
winning. 

“ Now, yo’ fresh frock. Wheah’s it at? ” 
Ailsie caught the black hand, turned it over 
with a curiosity concerning its brown back 
and pink palm, yet obediently led the way to 
a cheap dresser and tugged at a drawer. Big 
Sandy lay and watched, a gratified amusement 
driving the pain from his eyes and his simple 
heart sure now that the Lord would pro- 
vide.” 


201 


Would-be Helpers 

“ He never shuts one door but He opens 
another/' Janet had used to say ; and Ma’am 
’Liza represented a very wide and pleasant 
“ door ” indeed. 

Mrs. Melanson also watched in surprise. 
Ma’am ’Liza had suddenly become wondrous 
nimble and lively. She had straightened the 
few chairs, misplaced by the bustle of the doctor 
and Charlie, hung a newspaper at the curtain- 
less window, thus shutting off the sunlight 
from the sick man’s eyes, and tidied the 
covers over him. All with extreme quiet- 
ness and quick use of the narrow means 
at hand. Then taking Ailsie in her arms 
she placed her on a chair beside the bed and 
bade : 

“ Now, honey, you’se gwine set right yere, 
mighty still, an’ take ca’ yo’ paw. Does yo’ 
sing, lil one ? Den sing yo’ sweetes’ an’ make 
him go to sleep. I’se gwine in dat house 
yondah an’ cook him a broth. Lak’s not 
dere mought be two bowls ob it. If dere is, I 
knows a lil yellow hai’ed girl gwine get one 
ob ’em, suah. So come she sets right still an’ 
sings a lil song. Umm. Taste dat broth I 
My, my, honey I ” 


202 


Little Miss Evangeline 

With an unctuous smack of her thick lips, 
delightfully suggestive to the hungry child, 
the old nurse calmly “ shooed all but Ailsie 
out of the room and followed them herself. 


CHAPTER XIV 


IN THE SHUT ROOM 

Are you never going to have time to pose 
for me again ? impatiently asked Winifred 
Lawrence, a few days after the accident to Big 
Sandy. 

They were in the “ shut room,’^ which had 
once been her parents^, but had now become 
AngeTs own, and it was her first attempt at 
regulating it according to her fancy. She 
paused an instant, brushed her hand across 
her forehead, tossed her curls, and fiercely 
regarded the old trundle-bed which had now 
become little Ailsie^s sleeping place. The 
thing would not roll under the big four-poster, 
whereon she slept, turn it which way she 
might ! 

IsnT it a shame ? I’ll just have to let her 
sleep with me, and I’d like it well enough ; 
only I never did sleep with anybody and I 
hate to be kicked. She’s certainly cunning and 
sweet when she’s awake, but she’s a dreadful 
kicker. I got up three times last night and 
203 


204 Little Miss Evangeline 

put the covers on. Well, I can’t help it. 
Charlie Micmac must carry this trundle out 
to the barn, or up-attic in his own chamber. 
If_if_he will.” 

Winifred sat in a high-backed chair and 
was watching Angel. Her crutches had been 
placed upon the floor beside her but, happen- 
ing to be in Angel’s way, the latter had carried 
them to another part of the room and laid them 
on a table. She had a curious feeling about 
those crutches. Almost as if they were real 
feet, though wooden ones, and must be gently 
treated. Had their owner noticed, she would 
not have liked them to be so far away from 
her hand, because she was so utterly helpless 
without them. 

Presently, the little housekeeper left off* 
trying to manage the trundle and sat down in 
the middle of the one strip of rag carpet, to 
rest. She was very proud of that carpet, and 
anxious that no accident should happen it, 
for it represented to her simple mind a luxury 
not common to the bedroom of a mere girl. 
As she curled herself upon it, she happened 
to observe her own feet, and a cry of dismay 
escaped her. 


In the Shut Room 


205 


'‘Why, Angel, what’s the matter? You 
don’t know how funny you do look, sitting 
on that homely rag thing in that spotted dress 
and your face so sober. I wish you’d brighten 
up and pose. Only put on another frock.” 

" I can’t. My other one isn’t ironed. I 
washed it yesterday, all by itself, and it looks 
real nice. It would, I mean, if it were ironed. 
I tried that but I didn’t do it right. I’m 
going to get Mrs. Melanson to show me, 
next time she comes. And do look there ! 
A hole in that shoe that was new just before 
I came away from Digby. What shall I do I ” 
" Why, get a new pair, of course ; or have it 
mended.” 

" I might. I mean, I can’t.” Then she 
glanced across to the pretty white slippers that 
clothed Winifred’s slender feet, and sighed. 
“ Odd, isn’t it ? But your shoes never do 
wear out, do they ? I suppose that’s why 
you can buy white ones. I think white shoes 

are just heavenly. I wish mine didn’t ” 

"And I wish mine did ! ” cried the other 
girl, with some bitterness. " You needn’t 
envy me my feet, Angel Brevard, aii}^ more 
than Marian need envy my clothes. I’d 


2o 6 Little Miss Evangeline 

wear the cheapest prints if I could only run 
about as you two girls do, and I wish — I wish 
I could wear out a pair of shoes every single 
day of my life ! 

Angel stared, then said reproachfully : 

“ That would be wicked extravagance, 
Winnie dear. You mustn’t ^talk like that. 
A pair of shoes every single day I Nobody 
could buy so many.” 

Oh ! They’d be bought easily enough. 
It would make my father and mother the 
happiest people in the world if they could 
spend their money for such a purpose. Ah 1 
you don’t know a thing about it. You can’t 
even guess ; and you needn’t wonder I’m cross 
sometimes.” 

Oh ! I don’t wonder. I’m cross, too. 
That’s easy. And I guess I can guess. S’pos- 
ing I wanted, say those crutches and couldn’t 

get them, I Why, I should just get wild I 

Funny. Do your feet look any different in- 
side their stockings than other girls’ do, than 
Marian’s or mine? ” 

Of course they don’t. There’s nothing 
wrong in their shape nor size,” answered 
Winifred, indignantly. She was, indeed. 


In the Shut Room 


207 


rather proud of the shapeliness of those same 
useless members, and exceedingly particular 
concerning the shoes she wore. Indeed, many 
people looked at them, with curiosity, like 
Angel at that moment. So she felt she had 
an excuse for the little vanity which she al- 
lowed herself. 

I’d like to see them,” said Angel, frankly. 

Why ? What a queer idea ! ” 

Show them to me. I’ll show you mine ; ” 
and with that she promptly stripped off her 
own coarse footwear and exposed two feet, as 
dainty as Winifred’s own, and far smaller. 

The cripple laughed, and in the same spirit 
of mirth, bade Angel : 

Now take off mine. Let’s compare notes. 
Maybe, you seem so worried about that hole, 
my shoes would fit you. If they do I’ve lots 
at the farm, and you shall have as many as 
you want.” 

Oh ! thank you. That’s real nice of you ; 
only I mustn’t take them. Your folks aren’t 
here and they wouldn’t like it. Grand-Pierre 
wouldn’t like it, either. He was — wasn’t 
pleased this morning when Mrs. Melanson 
came here with a roast chicken for Sandy and 


2o 8 Little Miss Evangeline 

laughed at my frock, all spotted so. She said 
she had one of Marianas that Marian had out- 
grown and I might have it. But Grand- 
Pierre said no ; it was an accident had hap- 
pened from my ignorance, but I had no need ; 
I had clothes enough. So I have. There’s 
this frock and the other good, unspotted one, 
and my white one for Sundays. ^ What more 
does anybody want ? ’ my mother says. I’m 
sure I don’t see, either, ’cause nobody can 
wear but one dress at a time except it’s Indian 
Meg, who puts on two or three, and would 
wear more if folks would give them to her. 
She’s a basket-maker, lives in Gaspereau 
valley.” 

As she talked, Angel had shoved herself 
along the floor to where her visitor sat and 
now gently removed the shoes and stockings, 
as she had been bidden. She handled them 
gingerly, fearing she knew not what painful 
developments, and uttered a little exclamation 
of delight at the soft whiteness and perfection 
now exposed. 

“ Why, they’re lovely ! So pinky-toed and 

not a scratch on them. I thought Why 

in the world don’t you get up and walk ? ” 


In the Shut Room 


209 


Evangeline Brevard, that’s heartless I 
That comes of being familiar with — with a 
poverty-stricken Acadian ! I should have 
known. I’m always finding myself mistaken 
in people to whom I wish to be kind. But, 
Miss Impertinence, if you wish to know, I can 
inform you that the difficulty with my walk- 
ing is not in my feet but in the muscles of my 
legs. Now, if you will kindly put back my 
stockings and shoes and hand me my crutches, 
I’ll go outside and call Ma’am ’Liza. She’ll 
go to the farm and send a carriage for me. 
More than that, I may as well say good-bye. 
I’m tired of Grand Pr6, tired of all Nova 
Scotia. I’ll go over to St. John’s and stay 
there awhile. Well, are you going to help me 
or not ? ” 

Not — not — not ! ” cried Angel, with in- 
creasing emphasis. She had sprung to her 
feet and, with arms akimbo, stood regarding 
Winifred with utter amazement. It was the 
first time she had seen anger in her idol or 
any of that top-loftiness ” of which the young 
Melansons complained. A sharp pain had 
shot through her loving heart, but also a firm 
determination that they two should not part 


210 


Little Miss Evangeline 

like this. Winifred couldn’t go, or even 
move, without her crutches, and they were on 
the further side of the room. Without a word 
more she stood and stared ; and as suddenly 
as it had risen the cripple’s anger subsided 
and she burst into tears. 

The fact was that she had been sorely tried 
that morning. A picnic of young folks, with 
their last winter’s teacher, had been planned 
and all the Melansons were going. Ned had 
recovered from his green-apple sickness and had 
repeated for her benefit all the delightful 
schemes for the outing. Ned was her favorite 
among her three young housemates at the farm, 
and listening to his eager talk had roused in 
her all that rebellion against her own help- 
lessness which was always in her mind, though 
not often so bitterly felt as now. She had 
wailed to faithful Ma’am ’Liza : 

“ Oh ! I cannot bear it, I cannot ! Always 
to go hobbled like this I Never to have any 

good times, never to romp, never Oh! 

Ma’am ’Liza, I wish, I wish I were dead I ” 
Hush, honey 1 Hush, my po’ lil lamb 1 
Doan’ yo’ fret. Some day all come right. 
Trust de Lord, honey, an’ come ’long with 


In th'C Shut Room 


211 


mammy. Le’s go see dat lil Angel gell. 
Angel, fo’ suah she peah’s lak. Fotch yo^ 
paintin’ t’ings. What fo’ yo’-all mind a passel 
oh helteh-skelt’rers lak dese yere Mellomsoms. 
Come, le’s go.” 

So she had come ; and now to have the girl 
who was to have comforted her probe the 
w^ound of her affliction in this wise had been 
more than her nerves could bear. She called 
it “ nerves,” as had her doting parents always 
done ; and already ashamed of her outburst, 
as something “ most ill-bred,” she explained : 

I beg your pardon, Angel. I am very 
^ nervous,’ you know, and I sometimes forget. 

I should not have spoken so, but Will 

you hand me my things? ” 

Nervous ? Why, I thought it was temper. 
That’s the way I act when I’m mad and I’m 
always ashamed afterward, just as you are 
now. I’ll get your things b}^ and by. But 
wait a minute. Winifred Lawrence, do you 
mean you don’t like me? Really mean it?” 

The young tourist was vastly inclined 
to say that she did mean it, since her hostess 
was hatefully disobliging ; but after one stead- 
fast glance into each other’s eyes, anger dis- 


212 


Little Miss Evangeline 

appeared, and Angel flung herself on Wini- 
fred’s breast and hugged her ecstatically. 

Oh ! you dear, dear, dear I I never loved a 
girl like I love you. I never before thought it 
made a difference ’cause you had money and 
I didn’t. Anyhow, I don’t care. Do you 
know something? Right here, right now, 
while we stood glaring at each other that way, 
something came into my head. Something 
so splendid I — it just makes me tremble all 
over. Once there was a little baby lived next 
to our house in Digby ; and — bend over. 
Wait till I whisper I Quick I It’s so splendid, 
so splendid ! if Listen ! There now I ” 

Angel had caught her friend about the neck 
and had eagerly whispered in her attentive 
ear. Now she as suddenly released her and 
standing back regarded the listener with a 
glowing glance. 

Winifred clasped her hands, her own face 
almost magically bright with enthusiasm. 
Then it clouded and she murmured : 

No, no. It’s a wild dream. I can’t. I 
can’t.” 

“ It isn’t a dream. It’s the truth, or going 
to be. You can because you must. What you 



TELLING STORIES OF THP: SOUTHLAND 





In the Shut Room 


213 


must you always can, you know,’^ cried Angel, 
flinging herself at the other’s feet, to put back 
the white shoes and stockings. 

Neither spoke again till that operation was 
finished and the crutches restored to their 
owner ; through whose mind there had con- 
tinually run that favorite declaration of Evan- 
geline Brevard’s : 

“ What you must you can.” 

When they were ready to leave the shut 
room,” which would, if all went well, still 
remain at times a ** shut ” one, Winifred begged : 

Promise me you’ll keep it a secret. A 
splendid secret, if it does succeed ; and nobody 
the wiser if it doesn’t. Will you promise?” 

Angel’s face fell. 

I don’t like secrets — much. They seem 
such unhappy things. Yet — course — rather 

than not Yes, I’ll not tell anybody, not 

a body. There. That’s a promise. But 
I hate a promise because, sure as can be, I 
shall want to break it. I always do ; ” and 
with this frank admission Angel led Winifred 
into the garden, where sat Ma’am ’Liza, telling 
stories of the Southland to Little Sandy and 
his sister. But she interrupted herself in the 


214 Little Miss Evangeline 

midst of a most thrilling narrative concerning 
a graveyard rabbit and a green turtle to throw 
up her hands and exclaim with delight : 

“ Dere, honey, I done tole yo' ! Once get 
alongside dis yere HI Angel gell an' all yo’ 
troubles gwine be fo'got ! ” 

But Angel blushed in shame, remembering 
how little she had deserved her name a few 
moments before. Remembering, also, that it 
was drawing near dinner-time and she must 
prepare the meal for her grandfather. Just 
then, too, she heard th6 “ gee-hawing " of a 
farmhand and knew that the ox-team was on 
its way back from Wolfville, and that Wini- 
fred would ride homeward in it. 

Farmer Melanson called it his ox-mobile " 
and was very proud of the handsome, tract- 
able animals which furnished the “ power " 
for it. Like all Nova Scotian hauling 
wagons," the broad body of it was hung low, 
not more than a foot above the ground, it 
seemed, and it was far easier for Winifred to 
get into than the higher vehicles of the livery. 
Also, there was a novelty about riding in an 
ox-team that pleased her, as it did many a 
tourist ; but to Marian and Angel this sort of 


In the Shut Room 


215 


thing was an old story, and as ‘‘ common as 
dirt.’’ That is, to Marian it was common, 
though Angel’s experience of any sort of 
wagon was limited. 

Warning Winifred that the “ ox-mobile ” 
was at hand, she helped her to the road, and 
upon the cushion placed for her on the wagon 
bottom, saying : 

“ Come back this afternoon and we’ll begin ! 
I’ll pose, too, maybe. If I can spare time. 
We’ll do the other, anyway, because we must. 
Oh ! I am so glad, so glad 1 ” 

I’m glad, too, only I’m so afraid ! It is 
too good to be true. But remember, not a 
word, not a hint, to anybody, not one ! 
Good-bye. It’s our secret and you promised I 
Good-bye.” 

The driver cracked his whip in the air and 
the oxen struck into their leisurely gait home- 
ward ; but the little maid left standing by the 
roadside gazed after their retreating forms 
with a touch of envy in her heart. To Wini- 
fred the whole time for idleness, to herself all 
that same time for work ! 

Work ! I’m never done, these days, though 
I try so hard. Charlie — Charlie isn’t — isn’t 


2i6 


Little Miss Evangeline 

nice any more. And seems if Grand-Pierre 
does eat a lot, seems if! When he saw that 
chicken for Big Sandy Mrs. Melanson sent, he 
said he wanted one, too, for his Sunday dinner. 
We’d always had one each Sunday. That had 
been Mere Marie’s way. Why did I change ? 
But Jimmy-cat, I couldn’t make him under- 
stand. There aren’t many chickens left, and 
I — I couldn’t kill one with my own hands, 
I could not. Grand-Pierre never did. Mere 
Marie used to say it would take off his appe- 
tite to do it. He must never see his dinner 
till it was cooked and on the table. Dear me 1 
I wish something would take it off! There’s 
nothing but a little bacon, for when the fresh- 
meat-man went by I had to shake my head 
at him again, meaning ‘No.’ Fresh-meat-men 
never leave their beefsteaks without you pay 
them. Mere Marie never ran in debt, so I 
mustn’t ; and — seems if this housekeeping 
is terribly wearing. I have to do things 
twice over, most times, ’cause I have a ‘ gift ’ 
for doing them wrong first off. Same’s my 
‘ gift ’ for writing, only one’s a nice kind and 
one isn’t. There’s Grand-Pierre calling us. 
Let’s hurry and answer, and after all I’m 


In the Shut Room 


217 


glad Fm just I, and not poor Winnie Law- 
rence, who has never run a step in her life — 
never once like this I ” 

With that, once more her happy self, Angel 
sped toward the old forge, now silent, in whose 
door Grand-Pierre stood waiting. But his 
greeting banished the smile from her lips and 
set her trembling in dismay. The question 
she had long expected and feared came now : 

Angel, cherie, where is the money Mere 
Marie left? Mrs. Melanson says it was much, 
much, and it explains — many things. Fetch 
it, small housemistress, and let us consult 
together/^ 


CHAPTER XV 


DEEPENING PERPLEXITIES 

Many days had passed since Grand-Pierre's 
return from the forest and since Big Sandy’s 
accident, but this was the first time her grand- 
father had mentioned money. He had stayed 
almost continually at the smithy, during the 
first few days actually attempting to carry on 
its work ; but he had soon given that up. 
Whatever skill his arms may have held in 
their young days had long since been forgotten. 
He was awkward at the shoeing, and as for 
setting a wagon-tire, that was quite beyond 
him, even with Big Sandy directing from the 
inner room. 

Farmer Melanson had said, too : 

“ It’s a dangerous job for an old fellow like 
you. First we know, some other vicious beast 
that you’re mishandling will kick you also, 
and we’ll have another broken-legged patient 
on our hands. Better give it up and live on 
your money. I’ve fixed a temporary shop at 
218 


Deepening Perplexities 219 

my own place and spread the news round that 
good blacksmithing can be had there, till such 
time as Sandy Wylde gets afoot again. Best 
take it easy and rest — as you’ve always done.” 

The advice was good, given, also, in kind- 
ness, but Grand-Pierre did not receive it in 
like spirit. He resented what he considered 
an attempt to “ boss ” him, and his sharp 
retort offended his neighbor. The consequence 
was that the report was spread that old Bre- 
vard was not only clumsy at his trade but 
ugly-tempered as well. People would better 
avoid the old smithy and patronize the new. 

The counsel was sensible, and most of Big 
Sandy’s old patrons followed it. Only a few 
back-countrymen, with an ox-yoke to mend, 
or some other simple job to be done, still came 
to the familiar shop ; and of such, even, there 
had come none during the past week. 

So there was nothing to interfere with 
Grand-Pierre’s nursing of Big Sandy, and a 
faithful, gentle nurse he proved. Mrs. Melan- 
son slipped over ” once or twice a day to see 
that things went on right in the sick-room, 
and did this partly because of her own really 
kind if officious nature and partly that Ma’am 


220 


Little Miss Evangeline 


'Liza^s devotion to the injured Scotchman 
shamed her to it. It wasn’t in the mind of 
any Bluenose, maid or matron, to let a stranger 
from the States set her an example as to duty. 

Angel wondered that she had not already 
spoken to Grand-Pierre about the missing jar 
of savings, and did not know that the wise 
Dr. Dupont had kept that matter to himself. 
When asked if he had seen that this money 
was safely in bank he had put the question 
aside in such wise that the farm-wife had not 
repeated it, and with a little heat had re- 
sponded : 

“ All right. Tis only for the sake of those 
foolish people themselves I am anxious. 
Neither the old man nor the child knows the 
value of a dollar, and as for the Digby rela- 
tives, they seem strangely indifferent.” 

Not so indifferent as helpless in the matter, 
I fancy. And how’s the green-apple eater ? 
Learned wisdom, has he? ” asked the physician, 
changing the subject to one of more interest 
to her. 

Nor had he spoken to old Mr. Brevard, 
thinking : 

‘^Trouble enough at the cottage without 


Deepening Perplexities 221 

raking up more. It’s strange, very strange, 
where Mere Marie could have put that jar I 
For it must have been she who moved it, 
since it is not in the place where little Angel 
saw it. Anyway, I trust that little ^ Bluenose ’ 
implicitly. I don’t think anything could 
make her vary from the truth in the slightest, 
and she’s developing into a wonderful small 
woman. I wish I had a daughter like her, 
poor old bachelor that I am ! Heigho ! 
Though she’s a temper of her own, once stir it 
up. But mostly a tender, loving, over-ambi- 
tious little thing. Last year as care-free and 
merry as a lark ; now scarcely taking a 
moment for play. Well, well, I must try to 
get her a holiday now and then.” 

So he tied his horse at the old smithy once 
more, meaning never to pass it without so 
doing until that faithful Big Sandy should be 
upon his feet again ; and those who knew that 
good doctor knew also that of these visits there 
would be no record kept nor future bills pre- 
sented for them. 

This word, passed with Mrs. Melanson and 
inwardly with himself, had been days before ; 
and now again, in the ‘'very nick of time,” 


222 


Little Miss Evangeline 

as Winifred would have said, he came again 
to the break in the cottage fence and saw 
Angel standing with clasped hands, in attitude 
of great distress, before the smithy door and 
Grand-Pierre, sternly observant. 

Good-morning, friends I How goes it ? 
Why, Angel girl ? Tears ? Tears, on such a 
day as this ! What’s happened now ? ” 

“ Oh ! you know. It hasn’t happened now, 
but this is the first time Grand-Pierre has 
asked about the money of Mere Marie. And 
I have had to tell him all. All. He didn’t 
know about her ^ secret ’ that you and every- 
body else did ; but the Melansons have told 
him she had a lot of dollars and we ought to 
live on them now and he give up the shop. 
Course, I’m glad to have him do that, ’cause I 
don’t want him to get hurt like Sandy. Only 

he Well, you see, he’s just forgot how to 

put on shoes quite right. He used to be a 
master-smith, he says so himself. But — but — I 
can’t make him quite believe, and he says if I 
don’t fetch it we shall starve. And — and — 
how can I ? ” 

Dr. Dupont seated himself upon the grind- 
stone near and took Angel on his knee. It 


Deepening Perplexities 223 

hurt him to see her bonny face, that had 
been so full of spirit and gayety, drooping so 
now, and as for tears — he hated them in eyes 
so young as hers. 

Well, I don’t suppose you can, honey. 
I reckon not many folks do starve in our rich 
Province, and surely I never heard of one that 
did so here in lovely ^ Acadie.’ At least, not 
since the ^ Exile.’ Well, Pierre, I think there’s 
no need to worry. The missing treasure is sure 
to come to light. Somewhere, somehow. It 
can’t help it. There isn’t a thief in all the 
valley, and if there were, who’d have the 
heart to steal from such a woman as our M5re 
Marie ? 

“ However, let’s to the point in hand. I can 
perfectly understand how, with Big Sandy 
laid up and trade dropping off so, you must 
find yourself short-handed. Let me help you 
out, lend you whatever you need, till such 
time as that money turns up or Sandy gets to 
work again. In which case, I advise you to 
leave her hoard untouched and put it out at 

interest. But this little maid here We 

must give her a chance. Put her to the books 
instead of the dishpan, so that, by and by, she 


224 Little Miss Evangeline 


may be a teacher and earn her own living in 
that high calling. 

What say, Bright Eyes ? Like that ? Or 
would you rather be a trained nurse? It’s 
the dream of my own life to build a hospital, 
right here in the Gaspereau. That’s what I’m 
saving my money for, just as dear Mere 
Marie did hers for the ^ Home ’ for her 
Acadians. 

Think of it, Evangeline Brevard, you new, 
latter-day Evangeline ! When I’m an old, 
old fellow, lots older than Pierre here. I’ll sit 
at my ease in my hospital office and you shall 
be my head nurse, administering for me. 
Clad all in white, from your dainty cap to 
your shoes, winning everybody’s love, a happy, 
happy woman, because you’re such a use- 
ful one. Shall you like it, little Angel ? 
Or would you rather be a schoolma’am and 
thrash naughty hoys with a stout birch 
rod ? ” 

By this time both Grand-Pierre and Angel 
had forgotten their trouble in the pictures Dr. 
Dupont drew. Also, he had almost forgotten 
the present in his cherished dream of the 
future. But now, remembering, he put Angel 


Deepening Perplexities 225 

aside, or would have done so, had she not 
caught his neck in her arms and exclaimed, 
ecstatically : 

Oh I I love you, I love you ! How splen- 
did you are ! 

The good man kissed her heartily, in return. 
Her honest affection meant much to his lonely 
heart, lonely despite the cheerfulness he 
always spread about him. 

No, no, lassie ! Not one whit splendid. 
Just a poor country practitioner, who must 
drive his worn-out nag and shackly buggy 
up-hill and down dale, wherever in this corner 
of our Province a little boy eats green apples 
or a blacksmith breaks his leg. To your 
especial blacksmith I must go this minute ; 
else like Charlie Micmac he^ll be asking : 
^ What did he say about ME ? ’ That lad never 
thinks of himself except in capital letters, 
but he^s all right. He’s all right, Angel. 
Remember, an Indian may be surly at times, 
but a Micmac never injured an Acadian, no 
matter what he might do to us English. How 
much, Grand-Pierre, would be of use, just 
now ? ” finished the doctor, pulling his purse 
out of his pocket and beginning to open it. 


226 Little Miss Evangeline 

Grand-Pierre held up his hand in protest, 
quickly answering : 

None, sir, none. I thank you, neighbor, 
but no. When was it said of the Brevards 
that they owed a man aught? M^re Marie 
believed that debt was sin. What one had of 
one^s own — that he might spend or waste or 
hoard, as his mind was. Already I owe, for my 
Big Sandy in yon, yes. But all in good 
time I will pay. In good time. Cherie and 
I will do quite well, ah ! very well, indeed. 
But thank you. Dr. Dupont, and good-bye. 

“ On his dignity again ! ” thought the 
doctor, as he went to the blacksmith’s bedside. 
“ Well, I like him better so. Far better. I 
didn’t think that one so old could ever change 
as Mere Marie’s death has certainly changed 
her eighty-year-old ^ boy.’ But I’ll keep 
watch. I only fear — Charlie Micmac — hmm. 
There’s something amiss with that fellow. I 
can’t guess what, for I do not, I certainly do 
not believe he would steal.” 

The doctor did keep watch, but the house- 
hold he regarded so solicitously showed no 
sign of need. After he had left them that 
noontide, Angel led Grand-Pierre into the 


Deepening Perplexities 227 

living-room and showed him the hidden 
closet in the chimney where Mere Marie had 
stored her “ Rescue money/’ as she had called 
it. Over and over again she assured him that 
the old dame had never gone to that spot 
again, her fatal seizure following so soon after 
Angel’s own visit to the closet at its owner’s 
request. 

Nothing rewarded their search ; and dislik- 
ing trouble as he did, Grand-Pierre was the 
first to recover his spirits. 

^‘Well, why forebode, cherie? I was just 
reflecting. * Bacon.’ One cannot live upon 
bacon three times a day and still And it relish- 
ing. No matter, once more we will have it ; 
afterward I will to the Basin and catch a big 
fish. Better still, we two will go as of old to 
the woods and the trout-stream. You are not 
rosy, Angel, why ? You grieve too much for 
what was God’s will. No, no. That must 
not be. More play, little one. Surely. Yes, 
we go a-flshing, thou and 1 1 ” 

“ Oh I if I could, Grand-Pierre ! If I only 
could I To-morrow, dear, make it to-morrow, 
not to-day, then maybe I can. But this after- 
noon Winifred will come and No matter. 


228 Little Miss Evangeline 

You go by yourself, if you choose. Certainly, 
a fine fresh trout would taste Umml^’ 

“ No, Angel. I shouldn’t like the woods 
alone. ’Tis a place to think in and I — I like 
not all these sad changes. So alone I will 
not go. To-morrow, call it ; and I will doze a 
bit now in Mere Marie’s big chair while you 
cook that bacon. Only, can you not make it 
a chicken ? ” 

Angel rolled the chair into a cozy corner 
and glibly explained : 

Why, you see, dear heart, there are no 
chickens. Just a few old hens and Father 
Michael, the cock. Somehow, the brooding 
hens left their nests after — after that happened, 
and no Mere Marie to care for them. Nobody 
thought to set new lots of eggs and I would 
now but, well, you see there aren’t any eggs. 
I cooked the last three for your breakfast. 
But, never mind. The hens will lay some 
more, maybe. And my heart ! There’s that 
Father Michael this minute, scratching away 
in that sweet-pea row 1 He mustn’t. He 
must not ! For Charlie told me that our 
Mere Marie herself sowed the seeds. That 
rich man who built the big house on the hill 


Deepening Perplexities 229 

behind Wolfville is going to give money to 
anybody who raises the finest sweet-peas in the 
neighborhood/^ 

** What ! money for just fiowers ? 

“ Yes ; it was all printed on a paper. Marian 
and Archie have one, and they're trying for 
the prize. Mere Marie was trying, too, for it 
would have been ten whole dollars. Marian’s 
row is longer than ours, but not so thrifty. 
Mrs. Melanson said that herself. She wasn’t 
pleased, not very. Funny ! How they all at 
the farm like to be best in everything. I 
shouldn’t think they’d mind, since they have 
money in a bank, same’s the doctor was wish- 
ing M5re Marie had — instead of nobody knows 
where. Oh ! dearest Grand-Pierre ! Listen to 
me I You come, help me drive that cranky 
old rooster and his hens back into the hen- 
yard, then you begin this minute to take care 
of the sweet-peas yourself ! Think of that I 
S’posing you should win the prize for Mere 
Marie? It would be for her, wouldn’t it? 
Anyhow, I can’t bear to have them die, and 
they need water. It takes so many pails to 
wet all that long row and — Charlie Micmac is 
cross about drawing them. I can’t lift the 


230 Little Miss Evangeline 

sweep at the well. It’s too heavy. Not yet, 
but I guess I’ll learn after awhile, when my 
arms get larger. But you could, Grand-Pierre, 
you could easy, ’cause you’re so big and 
strong. Let’s come.” 

The old man straightened his fine shoulders, 
which had never been bowed by labor, and 
smiled indulgently ; then taking Angel’s 
hand permitted himself to be led to the old 
well, to have the pole holding the bucket 
thrust into his grasp, and even to lower it, 
hand over hand. A little slide in the bottom 
of the bucket lifted by the pressure of water 
from beneath and the bucket filled. The 
dipping had been easy, but the raising proved 
not so. A little hitch somewhere of the 
heavy pole which formed the sweep, an im- 
patient jerk on Grand-Pierre’s part, and a cry 
from Angel : 

O Grand-Pierre, Grand-Pierre ! You’ve 
lost the bucket down the well ! However 
shall we get it up again? ” 

“ Hmm. I am not used to the drawing, 
cherie, and you chatter such a string you 
make me lose my balance. Call Charlie 
Micmac. It cannot be the first time it has 


Deepening Perplexities 231 

fallen or he fished it out. Fish ! That re- 
minds me. We were to go, after the dinner, 
yes ? Then I will speak a word to Big Sandy 
and get my tackle ready. Make the dinner a 
good one, cherie, and pack a little snack in a 
paper. We will not come back till the stars 
are out and the evening cool. My heart ! 
But it is a warm day for this valley ! Yes, 
is it not?’^ 

As he coolly walked away, simply shifting 
the duty of repairing the accident to Angel’s 
shoulders, she looked after him curiously. 
A little anger, almost the first she had ever 
felt against her beloved grandfather, rose in 
her heart. But it was swiftly banished by 
the thought : 

Mere Marie called him her ^ boy ’ and he 
is one. Well, she gave him to me to take 

care of ; and Heigho, Little Sandy ! Do 

you know where Charlie Micmac is ? I want 
him, and I haven’t seen him since breakfast. 
Go tell him the bucket’s down the well, and 
we can’t get water till it’s fished up again. 
Hurry and find him, for I have to get the 
dinner.” 

But still the child lingered. He loved 


232 Little Miss Evangeline 

Angel, and he knew he had a message she 
would not like to hear. It was Ailsie, in fact, 
who so rarely spoke save as her brother’s echo, 
that now announced : 

“ Charlie Micmac goned away. Goned clear 
off to Marian’s house. Goin’ drive them 
purty oxes, Charlie Micmac is. Charlie 
Micmac never come here no more, never 
no more.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


MYSTERIES 

Come, Angel, let's be off already. Big 
Sandy says he, too, would relish a fine trout 
for his supper. After that last mess of 
bacon Ah ! cherie, no more at present." 

No, dear Grand-Pierre ; and — and not 
any time, unless we — we buy it." 

Buy ? Then, little one, is it quite gone, 
yes?" 

All gone. Every bit. Not another piece 
of it in the spring-house, nor anywhere I 
know," she answered, in keen regret. 

But then that is good." 

Maybe ; only there's nothing left but a 
few potatoes and some meal and oat-flour." 

Enough. With the fish and game we 
shall capture, what king could fare better? 
But your own rod and line, fetch them, 
cherie. Why hinder so Grand-Pierre ? And 
it so long since we were under the trees 
together, thou and I. We shall be happy 
233 


234 


Little Miss Evangeline 

once again, yes, and the roses will come back 
to your cheeks. I like not to see them thin, 
Angel Brevard, nor an old-woman look on 
your bonny face. Kiss Grand-Pierre, heart 
of my life, and let us be off.^^ 

She kissed him gladly enough, and her 
eyes filled with tears of disappointment for 
the beloved outing she must miss. But she 
answered firmly : 

'' Don’t you remember that T told you I 
couldn’t go ? ” 

But why not, sweetheart?” he asked, 
even more disappointed than she. 

First, there are the dishes to wash, and 
Winifred Lawrence is coming. We — we have 
something to do.” 

“ Maids’ foolishness, no doubt. She is a 
fair child, but she can come again. She must 
not become of more account to my Angel than 
old Grand-Pierre ! ” 

Angel could hardly bear the look of tender 
reproach in his eyes, but she answered as 
bravely as she could : 

She will never be that ; never, never, 
never ! But I promised ; and I knew I should 
feel it was like a tight cord choking me! 


Mysteries 235 

That I should want to break it right away. 
But I must not. An Acadian never tells an 
untruth, and I promised. But look, see this 
gridiron. I scoured it all myself because I 
forgot it one day when I’d used it. Yet now 
again it is as if dear Mere Marie had polished 
it. Oh I how swiftly she did everything and 
how well I But I am so slow, it seems if I 
never would learn the right way first. ” 

With a worthy pride the little housekeeper 
tried to lift high the old-fashioned iron grid- 
iron, with its four legs to hold it above the coals, 
and Grand-Pierre duly admired, if with a 
rather absent mind. He had heard the 
sound of wheels at the gateway and looking 
out saw Farmer Melanson stopping his buggy 
there. Another moment he had swung Wini- 
fred Lawrence to the ground, helped her to her 
crutches, and would have reentered the car- 
riage, had not something amiss with the har- 
ness caught his eye and forced him to delay. 
For some reason he seemed to avoid meeting 
his old neighbor, but the sight of him recalled 
to Angel what Little Sandy, or Ailsie rather, 
had said, and she began : 

Oh ! Grand-Pierre, ask him if it’s true ? 


236 Little Miss Evangeline 

I didn^t tell you because Going to get a 

lift with him ? Well, good-bye, and good luck I 
Oh I I wish No matter. Behave your- 

self, Angel Brevard, and don’t be silly I ” 

Old Pierre had hurried down the path, the 
friendliest of feelings in his heart toward his 
neighbor, and had begged a ride as far as the 
north woods, since Mr. Melanson’s horse 
seemed headed that way. But Angel felt it 
very hard that she should thus lose both the 
fishing trip and the ride, and her face was so 
sober that Winifred exclaimed : 

“ Why, Angel ! What’s the matter ? You 
look — as if you had all the trouble in the 
world on your little shoulders. Aren’t you 
glad to see me ? Aren’t you glad about what 
you promised ? Because, of course, I can give 
it up. I — I haven’t much hope myself, 
anyway ; ” and in her own turn, the other 
girl’s fair face grew sad and anxious. 

This was sufficient to banish Angel’s own 
discontent and to make her exclaim: 

'' Of course, I’m glad. But I’ve had lots of 
things happen and I rather wanted to go fish- 
ing. You see, I’ve always been with Grand- 
Pierre wherever he wanted me to, other sum- 


Mysteries 237 

mers, and never thought how hard it must 
have been for dear Mere Marie to be always 
stopping at home. I know now and though 
it’s fine to be useful, though I’m proud to be 
taking care of the home for Grand-Pierre, 
I — Winifred, I try and try, but — I cannot 
make myself like dishwashing. I simply 
cannot ! ” 

Her tone was so tragic that the other girl 
laughed, and in a moment Angel laughed, 
too. Then one glance toward Winifred’s 
crutches banished the last of her ill feeling, 
and with her old gayety, she pushed a chair 
out to the kitchen table, helped her friend 
into it, and dipped hot water from the pot 
into the big pan, preparatory to the despised 
dishwashing. 

Give me a towel. Let me help dry them,” 
begged Winifred, so we may be through the 
quicker.” 

You ? With your white hands ? What 
would Ma’am ’Liza say ? ” 

White hands are just as good as brown 
ones, even if they aren’t as full of scratches. 
Why, Angel ! What’s that big red place ? 
That’s new, isn’t it? ” 


238 Little Miss Evangeline 

That’s where I spilled the bacon fat 

and Ugh ! This hot water does make it 

smart ! Ugh — ouch I ” 

“ Let me do it for you. I believe I could, 
even sitting down as I must. Please.” 

“ No, indeed ! Ma’am ’Liza would think 
me heartless to let you. And housekeepers 
have to get used to burns and things. She 
hasn’t been here to-day, to see Big Sandy. 
That man is so patient ! All day long he 
must lie just so still, not moving even at all, 
yet never once have I heard him complain. 
Instead, he says he never was so well cared 
for since Janet * passed,’ and he thinks the 
bairns have improved lots. Anybody Mrs. 
Melanson takes in hand has to improve, 
whether or no, I guess, but I can see Big Sandy 
loves old Ma’am ’Liza best. She has such 
nice quiet ways, and talks so funny, and is so 
fat.” 

Winifred laughed. That’s a queer thing 
— liked because one is fat. You’ll never be 
because of such a thing, and I do wish you 
wouldn’t work so hard. You ought to play 
more. If you’ll let me I’ll have a maid 
hunted up for you somewhere, so you needn’t 


239 


Mysteries 

do any of this dishwashing at all. I think 
it’s a lark, doing it just once, this way, but 
not ' for keeps.’ Say you will. Then I’ll get 
Mr. Melanson to take his horse and carriage, 
or else get one from the Wolfville livery, and 
we’ll drive around to the different places until 
we find one. I wish you would. In this 
country, this Province as you people call 
it, one should hire a woman real cheap. I 
don’t believe it would cost more than twenty 
dollars a month.” 

** Twenty — dol-lars I Why, Winifred Law- 
rence I I never saw twenty dollars at a time 
in my life, except in the bank window at 
home in Digby. I don’t know why the 
bank folks had it there, but they did. A 
heap of gold and silver and paper money. 
My father thought it was to make poor folks 
feel poorer, but teacher said maybe it was 
to let anybody who wanted money know 
where they could get it. Maybe that was 
why. I — I wonder if I could get a paper and 
envelope and a stamp and if I wrote and 
asked they would tell me the real reason ! I 
do so love to understand about everything, 
don’t you?” 


240 Little Miss Evangeline 

I don't care as much as you. You're 
a regular interrogation point. Even your 
funny little nose turns up as if it were 
asking, ‘ Why ? ' But about the maid. Can't 
we do it? If you haven't the cash to pay 
her I'll pay for you. I'd love to. Shall 
we? " 

** You mean you'd give — -just out-and-out 
give — so many dollars to any living woman 
to do — -just this?" demanded Angel, scorn- 
fully flipping her cloth over her pan. Well, 
that's as silly as it's lovely of you ; but I 
never. Though Dr. Dupont ‘ dreams ' — and 
I dream too since he told me, sometimes when 
I'm not too sleepy — how some day instead of 
washing dishes and keeping a house, a little 
one, I will nurse sick people in his hospital 
that he dreams he is going to build right 
here in our dear valley. A place where any- 
body that gets hurt, like Big Sandy, can be 
made well. Though I wouldn’t think any- 
body that had a home would need a hospital, 
would you? Ever been in one? I saw a 
picture in a paper that's printed in Halifax, 
of a hospital there. It's a big house, all 
windows and doors and trees and things. It 


Mysteries 241 

looked real pleasant ; but when I showed it 
to Archie he said hospitals were for cutting 
people’s legs off in. I didn’t mention that to 
Dr. Dupont. I suppose he didn’t know and 
I wouldn’t like to make him feel bad or dis- 
appointed. Disappointed isn’t a nice sort of 
feel, is it ? Like when I couldn’t go a-fish- 
ing, and Do you know, Winifred Law- 

rence, that our bucket’s down our well? Clear 
down to the bottom, I guess, I can’t see it 
anyway ; and that Charlie Micmac has gone 
off? Little Sandy won’t tell much, only 
wriggles around, curious like, when I ask 
him about it, but Ailsie says he’s gone to 
drive Farmer Melanson’s oxen. That ox- 
mobile he’s so proud of, I s’pose. Do you 
believe it ? ” 

Yes, I do. I believe anything horrid of 
that boy. I don’t like him. I never did. 
But one thing I assure you : If that Indian 
is set to driving those oxen I shan’t ride be- 
hind them. Mr. Melanson needn’t expect it. 
The old driver he had was very picturesque. 
He just suited his team and liked it. He 
was as silent as the beasts themselves, and 
never said a word except ^ Haw ’ or * Gee,’ 


242 Little Miss Evangeline 

only once. Then I’d begged him to let me 
‘ Gee-^ them for a few minutes and I made 
out to get him into trouble, or I nearly did. 
We met a team coming from the town, one of 
those great buckboards, and I crack-whipped 
the oxen to the right as I thought I ought. 
That’s the way we do at home. But my old 
man that I fancied was asleep waked up 
in a flash and said just ^ Haw ’ or ^ Gee ’ — I 
don’t know which, but it was one or the 
other — and after we’d got back out of the 
way he said : ^ In Nova Scotia turn to the 

left.’ So after that I noticed everybody here 
who drives does turn on the wrong side of the 
road, not the right one.” 

** But it is the right one. I guess * Blue- 
noses ’ know how to drive as well as the States’ 
folks do. Never mind. I don’t expect to 
drive any way nor anywhere. Now, that’s 
the last old dish ! There won’t be so many 
next time, maybe. Will Ma’am ’Liza come ? 
Will she hunt us up and — and And out? 
Did you bring your painting things? Why 
don’t you leave them here all the time if 
you’re coming every day ? I wouldn’t let a 
thing happen to them, not a thing. Even 


Mysteries 243 

Jimmy-cat wouldn’t trouble paints and 
brushes. Why not ? ” 

Winifred worked her chair backward, 
tipping first one leg of it and then another, 
till she was free of the table and had pulled 
herself upright on her crutches. Then she 
laughingly replied : 

“ Could you ask another question ? Could 
you possibly think of one ? Let me hurry up 
before you do and say that Ma’am ’Liza will 
not come to-day. The poor old dear is laid 
up with a ^misery in her laig,’ that is, her 
rheumatism is troubling her again, and I’m 
glad of it. Oh ! don’t be shocked ! I’m not 
glad she’s ill, but glad she cannot come. I 
met the bairns on the way and gave them each 
a nickel to go and look for wild strawberries 
for me. I knew they’d not be ripe yet, for 
Mrs. Melanson told me, but it will keep them 
safely out of the house for the present. Your 
grandfather’s gone fishing, so he’s all right. 
Big Sandy can’t move, so we needn’t fear an 
interruption from him. That Charlie Micmac 
is at the farm and won’t be back, probably. 
I should think he’d be ashamed to come, any- 
way. That leaves us all alone to try — Angel ! 


244 Little Miss Evangeline 

My heart almost stands still, I am so eager, 
yet so afraid I Hurry, before my courage 
fails ! The shut room, the shut room, quick ! ” 

A half-minute later they were in it, its door 
tightly closed behind them. Furthermore, a 
nail had been pushed over the old-fashioned 
latch, so that nobody could open it from the 
other side, and Angel had carefully pinned a 
sheet over the shutterless, curtainless win- 
dow. 

All these preparations for secrecy inspired 
even the girls with a little thrill of awe, 
so that AngeTs voice faltered as she entered 
upon the hidden mystery of which she was 
to be chief ministrant. 

They were two talkative girls ; yet thereafter, 
for more than an hour, one listening outside 
would have heard no sound from that shut 
room and its secret.^’ Whatever was said 
within was in whispers ; for it was Winifred’s 
express command that not a hint of the mys- 
tery should escape to any outsider. Surely, 
it must have been something profoundly 
moving, that could so subdue their lively 
tongues, and send them out of the room, at 
that hour’s end, with faces pallid .yet bright 


Mysteries 245 

with excitement, and eyes that were almost 
tearful in their earnestness. 

“ Sugar I Why — sugar I 

Angel snapped the door shut behind her as 
she followed Winifred into the living-room, but 
not quickly enough to hide from Charlie 
Micmac the sheeted window and the row of 
chairs ranged down the centre of the room. 

Well, what shall I ^ sugar ^ demanded 

Angel, crisply. 

“ What’s been goin’ on in yonder ? Havin’ 
a funeral? The way them chairs is fixed 
looks like it, and there ain’t none left in here. 
Hey ? ” 

“I thought boys — young men — had no cu- 
riosity,” remarked Winifred, with her nose in 
the air, as she limped by the youth, standing 
with open eyes and mouth, and arms akimbo 
in the middle of the outer room. 

Sugar ! I never said I hadn’t none. I 
like to know things, same ’s other folks. Been 
lookin’ for that money, Angel? Found it?” 

No, I have not. I’ve looked for nothing, 
and if you please, that room is my own. I 
may do exactly as I wish with it. Grand- 
Pierre said so. And the bucket ” 


246 Little Miss Evangeline 


*‘0h ! here comes Dr. Dupont ! cried Wini- 
fred from the door-step, under the tiny vine- 
covered porch. “ It always makes me feel 
glad to see him. I don’t believe anything 
ever troubles him, he is so happy all the time. 
Ah ! Doctor ! Welcome ! ” 

From the interior Angel also greeted him, 
but only by a nod, for she had grasped Charlie 
Micmac’s blouse and was holding fast to it, 
despite his struggles to get away. At sight of 
the physician appearing thus suddenly the 
lad had been seized with a new shyness and 
was retreating, only that Angel prevented and 
tried to make him listen to : The bucket I 

The bucket ” 

Exactly, my dear ! * The bucket ’ ! It 

was the bucket brought me, in Miss Winnie’s 
' nick of time,’ again. ^ The bucket ’ ? Pray 
tell me about the ‘ bucket ’ ; ” cried the doctor, 
standing with one foot on the higher step and 
his elbow resting on his upraised knee. No, 
I’ll not come in — yet. Till I find I’m safe. 
For on the way I met the bairns, and Little 
Sandy fled, having been threatened with 
castor oil the last time I called, but I captured 
Ailsie. Amid her struggles to get free and 


Mysteries 247 

follow her idol she informed me that ^ Charlie 
Micmac's goneanoxes and Grand-Pierre’s- 
down-the-well-in-a-bucket ! ^ Can any of you 
three enlighten me ? What is a ^ goneanoxes ' ? 
And is our dear Grand-Pierre ^ in-a-bucket- 
down-the-well ' ? 

Everybody laughed ; even Charlie, forget- 
ting that he wished to escape the newcomer, 
who now seated himself comfortably and 
clasped his knees with both arms. With- 
out turning again toward the interior the 
doctor calmly commanded : 

Get your long hoop and rope and lantern 
— all the things you need. I’ll help you fish 
that bucket out of the well — the very best 
one in all this countryside for purity of water, 

that old well is — after Eh ? Going ? 

Well ” 

With a comical expression the jolly man 
now looked back over his shoulder and 
added : 

“ We won’t ^ say anything about you,’ my 
son. I’ve merely come to tell these young 
ladies the most delightful secret in the 
world ! I’m going to make it a real 
mystery. A mystery I ” 


248 Little Miss Evangeline 

He teasingly raised his voice so that the 
boy distinctly heard that one word, yet 
added not another till Charlie had disap- 
peared. 


CHAPTER XVII 


CONCERNING CLOTHES AND OTHER THINGS 

When a few minutes had passed, during 
which the two girls waited in breathless eager- 
ness for the doctor^s next words, he slowly in- 
formed them : 

One week from this day, at nine o’clock 
in the morning, you two young ladies must 
be ready for the * mystery.’ It will begin at 
that hour, so I believe, and will end just 
twelve hours later. Angel, you needn’t wear 
your soft-soaped frock, nor your * other one.’ 
You must put on your Sunday gear and put 
care aside for twelve delightful hours. I want 
to see my little hospital-nurse-that-is-to-be 
in her finest trim. I want her to open her 
laughter-box and let the shut-up fun come 
out. I want, well, for once I want the old 
Angel back again. 

As for you. Miss Winnie, I promise you 
that you’ll like the ‘ mystery,’ too. By the 
249 


250 


Little Miss Evangeline 


way, young ladies, what was the matter with 
our Micmac ? He didn't look happy." 

Why, only. Dr. Dupont, that we have a — 
a — little ^ mystery ' of our own and he wanted 
to find it out." 

That’s natural, I’d like to do so myself. 
But maybe I can guess. A new portrait of a 
girl-angel in a spotted frock I Well, I must 
go. Only don’t forget the time I set I ’’ 

With that the visitor hurried to the well, 
and for a half-hour he and Charlie sought to 
lift the bucket which, by the lantern’s light, 
they could see lying at the bottom. When 
all their efforts to fix the hook into the pail 
proved fruitless, the physician said : 

“ I can’t waste any more time here, Charlie ; 
but I’ll buy a new one at Wolfville and send 
it out by the first team coming this way," and 
began putting on his coat, preparatory to 
leaving. 

“ Sugar ! I ain’t givin’ up so easy. We 
don’t need no new bucket. Water wouldn’t 
taste out of it like it does from Mere Marie’s. 
I’ve heard her say that the moss on it gave 
the water a flavor like the spring in the 
woods and anything like the woods must be 


Concerning Clothes 251 

kept for Grand-Pierre. He’s — he’s a pretty 
old man himself, ain’t he? ” 

Dr. Dupont stared. He hadn’t given the 
Indian lad credit for so much sentiment ; but 
he quietly remarked : 

** Yes. Though that can’t matter to you, 
since you’re the farmer’s hired man now.” 

“ Sugar I Who said so ? Who told you ? ” 

** Birds of the air — maybe. I confess I was 
a little disappointed in you. I know if I had 
had as good a home as this, even though it is 
but a poor cottage, after all, I’d never leave it 
for a richer one where I was only * one of the 
men.’ Here you’re practically ^ boss’; and 
how about Kaddy, boy? What’s to become 
of him?” 

Charlie tossed his long straight hair out of 
his eyes and looked toward the barn where, 
at that moment his colt, Kaddy, was kicking 
the boards to pieces. The colt had been given 
to the lad by Mere Marie herself. She had 
rescued it from the ill-treatment of a passing 
peddler when it was but a few days old. Be- 
lieving it would die the man had sold it 
cheaply. M^re Marie had disliked parting 
with even so small a sum, but it wasn’t in 


2^2 Little Miss Evangeline 

her nature to permit anything to suffer when 
she could prevent. So she had paid the price 
and bidden her young farmer : 

“ Take and care for it. Its name is Kaddy, 
yes. Some day it may grow into a fine 
creature.^’ 

From that day Kaddy became as the 
apple of its owner’s eye, and the doctor 
suspected that it was largely on Kaddy’s 
account the boy wavered so in the matter of a 
home. 

Sugar ! I think Farmer’s meaner’n dirt. 
Says he won’t have that splendid colt on his 
premises. Says I’d better sell it for what 
’twill fetch. Hold on tight ! Lift steady ! 

We’ve got her I We’ve got her all 

Sugar an’ molasses ! There — she’s slipped 
off again I ” cried Charlie bending over the 
well as once more the hook swung free of 
the bucket-handle. 

The doctor laughed. 

Too bad ! and I ought not to stay another 
minute. But the thing grows fascinating. 
Makes me feel as if I’d rather get that old 
bucket up than — than eat my dinner ! Here. 
Let me try. You keep the lantern-rope 


Concerning Clothes 2^3 

steady to that side — as steady as you can. 
Well, about Kaddy?^^ 

If Farmer \thinks he's going to boss me 
in that business he's mistook, that's all. Says 
the colt ain't any kind of breed, nothin' but 
a peddler-colt and so on. Says it's the wildest 
jumper in the neighborhood and he ain't 
going to have it leaping his fences into his 
meadows and young orchards. Says I can 
take it or leave it, either one, though he 'lows 
I'm standin' in my own light lettin' a little 
creator' like that keep me out a steady 
job. Offered me wages, real big ones, the 
Farmer did. But — sell Kaddy ? I'd ruther 
shoot him with Grand-Pierre's rifle. Sugar. 
Huh ! " 

Dr. Dupont was pleased. He liked this 
evidence of feeling on the Micmac's part 

and He was actually lifting that bucket 

up ! He did not speak, nor Charlie. It was 
on the hook ! It wasn't slipping off ; it was 
success, at last ! 

Hurrah ! I told you so. I'd ha' fished 
after it till — forever, but I'd got it at last. 
What'd a new bucket be? Always tasting 
of the wood, and not half-soaked tight, leak- 


254 Little Miss Evangeline 

ing more than you can draw up But 

this here 

“ That bucket is really ^ one of the family/ 
And, lad, I hope you are, too. Now is the 
time for you to show the manliness in you. 
I guess this house of Brevard is a greatly im- 
poverished one. That remarkable woman 

What in the world could she ever have done 
with that money I ” cried the physician walk- 
ing away. 

But Charlie Micmac caught up with him 
and stopped him. 

“ Say, doctor, has she made you think I — I 
stole it ? I never did, never. But she’s had 
that tourist girl in the shut room and she’s 
been telling secrets ! She’s been talking about 
me. I ’low she’s told that old Ma’am ’Liza, 
and Mis’ Melanson, and all. Some of the farm- 
hands act ’s though Sugar ! Things 

ain’t as they used to be when Mere Marie was 
here. I — I never done it, never. But — but 
— I wish I knew what to do 1 ” 

Here was a cry of distress right from the 
heart, and it touched the good doctor. In 
his own mind he felt that this boy did know 
something about that missing jar of Mere 


Concerning Clothes 255 

Marie^s. Every symptom pointed to the fact : 
the lad's restlessness and gloom, which were 
new to him ; his devotion to his old home at 
one moment and his disloyalty to it at an- 
other ; his furtive glance where had used to 
be a straight and fearless one. But it was not 
this wise healer's way to force confession, nor 
would he, till the last extremity, impart his 
suspicions to others. 

Well, Charlie Micmac, it rests between 
you and your own conscience. And I wish — 
for every reason — you would remain on this 
little farm till things are brighter. I've 
started a plan that will help you out on the 
work. The neighbors will ^ bee ' the farming 
for Grand-Pierre, even if he does leave and 
go to his son at Digby. Mere Marie used to 
hire her plowing and reaping done, but it 
will be done for love of her memory this 
year. The apples and cherries you can care 
for. You know exactly how. There isn't a 
better trained young farmer in the country- 
side. Give up the notion of leaving — yet; 
and if you've anything to confide in me, re- 
member I'm your friend. 

By the way, son, I've foretold a ‘ mystery ' 


256 Little Miss Evangeline 

for those girls yonder, finer than anything 
they could concoct themselves in that shut 
room. You^re to be in it, Charlie. One week 
from to-day, at nine o’clock in the morning, 
put on your ^ best bib-and-tucker ’ and be 
ready for it. Now, go let that poor Kaddy 
out into the back pasture and get yourself to 
some needed job.” 

With that he had really gone, hurrying 
past the cottage door with no further word 
than a cheery : 

<< We’ve pulled the bucket out of the well 
— but Grand-Pierre wasn’t in it ! ” 

The week had almost passed, and the 
young folks of three households were in a 
fever of excitement. At the Melansons’ fine 
home, in Big Sandy’s rooms, and at the 
cottage of the Brevards, one theme set every 
tongue a-wag. 

*‘Dr. Dupont never does anything that 
isn’t perfectly splendid,” announced Marian 
Melanson, who had come over to visit with 
Angel and had brought Big Sandy the first 
asparagus of the season. '' Last Ml, after 
you’d gone home to Digby, he took us three 
children to Halifax with him. He had to go 


Concerning Clothes 257 

to some doctors^ convention or other and he 
said Ned needed toning up. Ned always 
needs toning up, and he even got himself 
sick on that trip. I thought it was awful 
mean of him ; but you see 

“ How could he ? Would he have ^ made ’ 
himself ill, Marian ? I don’t think he’d 
really mean to spoil his own good time as 
well as yours.” 

Humph ! You always do stick up for Ned, 
and he isn’t half as handsome as Archie. I 
declare he’s so freckled, lately, I’m ashamed 
of him. I don’t freckle and Winifred Law- 
rence doesn’t. You do, Angel. I see a big 
yellow one right on the end of your nose.” 

Angel sprang up from the bench, laughing 
and saying : 

'' It can’t be a very big one, Mannie, be- 
cause my nose itself is too little. But I must 
go and work in the sweet-peas. How are 
yours now ? ” 

Fine. I wish Do you always have 

to work ? I’d like to sit and plan about the 
^ mystery.’ What shall you wear ? I believe 
we’re all to go somewhere. Last fall the 
doctor took us to Halifax ” 


258 Little Miss Evangeline 


“ So you said once — I mean you’ve said it 
fifty times,” retorted Angel with considerable 
crispness. 

“Well, don’t you like to hear about it? 
How we went to Province House and saw the 
Assembly in session, and the famous portraits 
in one room, and the Government House, 
where the Governor lives, and the Citadel 

and the soldiers and Why are you 

clapping your hands over your ears, that 
way? Don’t you like it?” 

Angel was nothing if not frank and she 
was not as perfect as her name suggested. 

“ No, I do not. I never like to hear about 
good times that I’m not in. And I don’t be- 
lieve that you or anybody else does, either. 
Not way down deep in the inside of you.” 

Marian was too lazy to contest, also too 
honest to deny the charge. She slowly rose 
and followed Angel to the lean-to, whither 
the cottager went to seek her trowel and weed- 
basket. But she loved talking, and she 
brought the discussion round to the subject 
of dress. 

“ What shall you wear, Angel ? ” 

“ What can I wear but my white frock ? 


Concerning Clothes 259 

You know Dr. Dupont told me plain enough 
not ' spotty ' nor ‘ the other/ so of course 
there’s only the Sunday one left.” 

Well, I’m going to have my new white 
India silk finished. It’s coming home to- 
night. As soon as mother heard of the 
^ mystery ’ she drove straight to Wolfville and 
^ ordered ’ it made. That’s the way you say 
it when you ask the dressmaker to make a 
dress. I learned from Winifred Lawrence, 
and my — my ^ gown ’ — is copied from one of 
hers. Mother asked if she’d mind lending it 
and she didn’t. But she said we mustn’t ex- 
pect the two frocks to look just the same. 
Hers was an ^ imported ’ one, whatever that 
is, and she didn’t believe a country ^ modiste ’ 
would get the ^ hang of it ’ at once. She 
wasn’t mean at all, but — I wonder why she 

likes you so well when — when ” 

“ When what, or what * when,’ Mannie ? ” 
demanded Angel, down on her knees, care- 
fully working the soil up around the roots 
of the sweet-pea vines, as the doctor had in- 
structed her would best keep them growing. 
'' Oh ! I do hope Grand-Pierre can get the 
money, the prize ; or I for him. Charlie used 


26 o 


Little Miss Evangeline 

— but Charlie’s different. Oh, dear ! Did 
you say Winifred wasn’t coming to-day ? It’s 
almost past her time.” 

I didn’t say, but I suppose she will. I 
guess I’ll stay, too, and visit all afternoon. I 
don’t mind if I don’t get my dinner. If the 
table’s cleared away I can get cake out of the 
closet, and I hate helping with the dishes. 
Don’t you ? ” 

There she comes ! ” cried Angel, for reply, 
“ and Marian, I guess you’d better go now.” 

“ Well, Angel Brevard, I think you haven’t 
very nice manners. How can that sweet 
creature put up with you ? ” 

“ I didn’t mean to be rude, Mannie ; but 
you see, we — we ” 

Is she painting your portrait ? Ma’am 
’Liza thinks it must be that fetches her here 
every single day it doesn’t rain. Do 3^ou like 
^ posing,’ as she calls it ? If you don’t want 
me that’s no reason she doesn’t. She’s real 
polite to all three of us, but she likes Neddy 
best. Mother says that’s plain as A B C.” 

You mustn’t, Mannie. Not to-day. We 
couldn’t possibly, you see we — and I don’t 
'pose.’ I’d like it, yes, I’d be glad ; but — it’s 


Concerning Clothes 261 

something bigger and better than any portrait, 
it's — oh, dear, first thing I know I'll be letting 
the cat out of the bag ! " answered the little 
cottager, folding her arms tightly about her 
shoulders and shaking herself vigorously. 

Marian's eyes were on Winifred, limping 
up the path, and she asked rather absently : 

What cat? Jimmy-cat?" But she was not 
prepared to see Angel fling down her trowel 
and run to clasp Winifred close, nor to see the 
caress returned in full measure. 

Arm in arm, the pair came toward Marian, 
and Winifred said with real kindness, but 
equal firmness : 

Dear Marian, this is Angel's hour and 
mine. We are busy about something and will 
have to be excused. I'm sorry, for I'd like to 
talk everything over about to-morrow. But 
I've had a letter from Aunt Betty and she 
and uncle may come back any time. So — I 

mean By the way, your new frock has 

come home and your mother showed it to me. 
It is very pretty and I hope will fit you, 
though it looks rather big. Mrs. Melanson 
said she had it that way because you grow so 
fast. Ma'am 'Liza is walking across the fields. 


262 


Little Miss Evangeline 

but the hired man who brought me will take 
you back, if you want to ride. He said he’d 
wait.” 

This certainly was dismissal, but it did not 
offend Marian. The mention of the new 
frock made her eager to be at home and try- 
ing it on, while the suggestion of a ride back 
was agreeable to her indolent nature. More- 
over, she saw that Angel’s sweet-peas were 
going fast ahead of hers and she was anxious 
to do some work among her own. As she dis- 
appeared, Angel said : 

“ How is it, Winifred Lawrence, that you 
make people do just what you want, just what 
they do not want, yet never make them 
angry? And are you going to paint, to- 
day ? ” 

It’s Hmm. I can’t say it any better 

than it’s the way people do in ^ society.’ No 
matter how vexed a well-bred person may be, 
she doesn’t show it in society. Come here. 
Jimmy-cat ! Let me stroke you. Look, 
Angel. Do it this way — hear him purr? 

Rub him from his tail toward his head 

Look out ! No wonder he growls and spits. 
Well, I fancy you have to treat society as you 


Concerning Clothes 263 

would a cat, and Marian is — society. YouVe 
my friend, dear, dear, dear ! That’s the way 
you say things — three times over ; so I tell 
you ; and the difference between you and 
Marian is, I can say out things blunt and 
plain to you and know you love me all the 
more.” 

And are your people coming soon ? ” 

‘‘ Well, the letter did say that my people 
might come soon. They would at once if I 
were lonely or needed them. But I don’t 
need them, I don’t want them — not yet, not 
yet ! Oh ! Angel, do you suppose we will 
succeed ? Do you ? Can we ? ” 

We can because we must, you know. But 
won’t Ma’am ’Liza hinder us to-day ? ” 

“ Not she. I just told her we had private 
business in the shut room and left her to under- 
stand she mustn’t try to find out what it was. 
She never ’d want to, if I said a word against 
it ; and if ” 

Winifred hesitated so long that Angel 
prompted her : 

And if’?” 

If I didn’t get so tired. She says I grow 
so exhausted each time I come that she 


264 Little Miss Evangeline 

doesn't like it. She's afraid I'll be ill and 
that Aunt Betty will scold us both. I do get 
tired. I do get awfully discouraged. I feel, 
as soon as I get back to my own room and 
lie down, as if I didn't care. I'd rather never 
succeed, almost. But when I do come and 
I hear your old ' what you must you can ' 
it all gets right again." 

'' Is that the reason you never want to 
paint any more? The tiredness?" asked 
Angel, rather wistfully. Secretly, she was 
most anxious for that posing " which had 
opened a gold mine " to her, but how could 
she say so ? How tell her rich companion 
that the fifty cents a sitting " would give her 
power to stop the fresh-meat-man, now and 
then, and even that she might accumulate in 
time sufficient to buy herself that needed pair 
of shoes? 

But Winifred did not guess the desperate 
hope which made her friend so harp upon 
that posing, and Angel's pride kept her silent. 
However, she did notice a little pair of slippers 
standing by the fireplace in the shut room 
and commented upon them. They had 
evidently been polished with something and 


Concerning Clothes 265 

had been set to dry. Also their toes had been 
deftly opened with scissors and a patch of 
cloth sewed in. 

**Why, how funny they lookl Are they 
yours? What did you mean to do with 
them ? ’’ 

Oh I they are a bad failure I They — 
you see, I wore them last year and Mere 
Marie said they were foolish for a little 
Acadian. She had me put them away and 
go barefoot. But I hate barefoot. It hurts 
my feet ; and my this-year-ones are — they 
don’t look real well. I thought with my 
white dress these others would be better. I 
sewed the pieces in the toes ’cause they 
weren’t quite long enough ; then I set some 
water on to heat and put them right down in 
it. I thought it would make them clean and 
look much better; but, instead, it’s spoiled 
them. What shall I do ! ” 

Winifred no longer felt a desire to smile. 
Rather the swift tears came as, for the first 
time, she understood what Angel’s life really 
was. To be so poor as that and yet to be so 
silent about the poverty and so helpful to 
others. 


266 


Little Miss Evangeline 

“ Look here, silly little going- to-be-nurse ! 
What would our good doctor say if you 
weren't fixed as right in your feet as in the 
rest of your clothes? Of course, there isn’t 
time now to send to Wolfville, so you’ll just 
have to wear a pair of mine. I’ll tell Ma’am 
’Liza, this minute, and Little Sandy shall go 
home with her when she is through fixing 
Big Sandy and bring them. It’s the only 
way out — so near the time of the ^ mystery,’ 
and we with our afternoon’s work before us. 
Wait, I’ll go myself and tell her, as well as 
say ^ howdy ’ to the invalid.” 

Somehow, now, Angel felt no shame in 

accepting the gift. For Dr. Dupont 

Why, of course, she wouldn’t want to dis- 
appoint him, nor did Winnie want to have 
her ! She hoped — she hardly dared believe 
they would — but if they might be white ones, 
to match her Sunday frock ! Ah I if they 
might I 


CHAPTER XVIII 


ONE MYSTERY EXPLAINED 

Grand-Pierre ! Grand-Pierre ! Do wake 
up ! I^m in such a terrible hurry, and the 

sun Why, Grand-Pierre, the sun's been 

up forever ! Do come. You can sleep the 
rest of the day, if you like, after I get the 
breakfast things done. Charlie's no good. 
He was up even before I was and he's been 
primping and primping ; and he's got a new 
white shirt, wherever I don't know, 'less it 
was down to the store at Wolfville ; and the 
collar hasn't any button on it and I haven't 
any button and the porridge is getting cold 

and My heart ! Won't you come, 

please, dearest Grand-Pierre ? You know I 
wouldn't wake you if it wasn't for the 
' mystery,' and that's almpst here. I wouldn't 
wonder if it would be before we're half ready, 

and I've those lovely shoes and Oh, 

dear ! " 


267 


268 Little Miss Evangeline 

Old Pierre lifted his white head from his 
pillow and stared at his grandchild, then 
burst into a fit of merry laughter. She was 
fairly dancing about his room in her anxiety, 
putting things right — so she fancied — by set- 
ting the few chairs into the wrong places, and 
fairly tumbling over herself in housewifely 
eagerness. 

Cherie 1 Canst talk faster than water 
flows in the Gaspereau ! But what’s o’clock ? 
Is it so late already, yes? ” 

Oh ! the clock ! Why, it’s — it’s half-past 
’leven I No, it can’t be. Can’t. It mustn’t 
be ! ’Cause the ^ mystery ’ was to begin at 

nine and it hasn’t begun yet, and Do 

you s’pose it has been and I not in it? Do 
you ! ” demanded Angel, clasping her hands 
in a spasm of anxiety. Do you s’pose the 
rest that are in it would forget me and leave 
me out, do you ? ” 

“ No, I do not, indeed. But the ^ forget ’ 
was yours, sweetheart, you should have 
wound the clock.” 

I did. I surely did. The very last thing 
before I went to bed. Huh ! I wouldn’t 
have left that then for anything, for any 


One Mystery Explained 269 

single thing. I wound it and wound it and 
wound it, till it couldn’t stir another bit.” 

And so stopped it — too tight’s almost as 
bad as not enough. But Grand-Pierre under- 
stands. Once he was young and couldn’t 
wait for his good times to begin. Speed away, 
cherie, till I get dressed and we’ll get the 
breakfast over, swift, indeed. Though you’ve 
hours still to count before that ^ mystery ’ 

which you’ll Ah ! I know all about it, 

Angel. It’s Though I, too, can keep 

a ‘ secret ’ once and again. Happy Angel ! 
Speed away ! ” 

Just then Father Michael, the cock, began 
to crow. It was his first salutation of the 
morning, and an early, most methodical bird 
was he. Angel listened in surprise. 

Why — why ! At half-past four he does 
that, to wake up]his hens ! Only half-past four, 
and Charlie Micmac’s milked, and the milk’s 
strained, and the breakfast cooked, and Grand- 
Pierre waked out of his nicest sleep. I didn’t 
guess it was so early. But, never mind. I 
shan’t be any too ready, there’s so much to 
do. There is so much to do I ” 

Yet by half-past seven this busy little house- 


270 Little Miss Evangeline 

mistress could find no further task for her 
small hands. She had washed the dishes, 
swept, skimmed the few pans of milk — setting 
the cream ready for to-morrow’s churning, 
hurried out to Big Sandy’s rooms and seen 
that the bairns were scrubbed with soap and 
water till their faces fairly glistened, dressed 
Ailsie in the dainty white frock which Ma’am 
’Liza had made and presented for this great 
occasion, and, at his own desire, had tried to 
rub some of the freckles from Little Sandy’s 
face with a bit of pumice-stone, had brushed 
and bathed the prostrate farrier, given him 
his breakfast, and done everything which 
even her active mind could imagine as neces- 
sary for an absence of twelve whole hours. 

“ Mrs. Melanson is to come over and bring 
your dinner. Big Sandy, and my Grand-Pierre 

is to have his with you. For supper 

Well, you must just leave enough of your 
dinners over for that ; and I guess Grand- 
Pierre could get you a drink of milk, if you 
wanted it very much. I set a pitcher of 
skimmed on the shelf in the spring-house and 
he mustn’t take the new. You’d know that, 
wouldn’t you. Big Sandy? And you’d tell 


One Mystery Explained 271 

him, of course, that even if it was a little bit 
sour he mustn’t take the new. Else, there 
wouldn’t be any butter ; and meal-cake’s better, 
he thinks, with butter on it. I’m so glad the 
neighbors bring you things, ’cause our own 
has got — you know ; things the same every 
day, and not real tasty things, either. Likely 
you wouldn’t get well so fast if the neighbors 
were not so kind to you. Good-bye. I’ll 
take the best care of the bairns, so don’t you 
fear. Nothing shall hurt them, nothing, even 
s’posing there was any danger in the doctor’s 
^ mystery.’ Oh 1 I wonder what it is ! I’ll 
go put on my own white dress now, and 
Ailsie, you sit right still on that chair and 
don’t you dare to move till the time comes. 
It would never do to have you wrinkle your- 
self, never in the world.” 

She left them sitting rigidly upright on 
their wooden stools, hands folded, motionless, 
but inwardly a-thrill with excitement. A 
bee came in and buzzed near Ailsie’s nose, 
but she shut her eyes and tried to shiver 
him away ” ; while Sandy’s face smarted and 
itched almost unbearably from the pumicing 
it had received, even till the tears came. But 


272 Little Miss Evangeline 

like martyrs they sat on till they drowsed off 
into the unfinished naps of the morning, and 
from his bed Big Sandy watched their bobbing 
heads and hoped they would not tumble from 
their seats. 

In the cottage, Qrand-Pierre settled himself 
in Mere Marie^s big chair and took his forty 
winks, rendered desirable by his early 
rousing. Charlie Micmac remained invisible ; 
and Angel, having tied the ribbons in those 
wonderful shoes over and over again, seated 
herself in the sunshine on the little porch and 
admired their whiteness till her eyes were 
dazzled. 

^‘Won^t it ever come nineo^clock? And 
what — what — will the * mystery ^ look like ! 
Seems if I couldn^t wait. Seems if. I guess 
I^d better say the multiplication table over, 
forward and backward, and that will pass 
the time. What a trouble I did have with 
the six-times ! Had to stay after school to 
learn it. Now 141 begin, way to the begin- 
ning with : One times one is one ; one times 

two is — one times My ! how nice and 

warm this sun does feel, and how lovely, how 
heavenly sweet those shoes are ! How dear 


One Mystery Explained 273 

of Winifred to give them to me, but course, 
I'd give her anything I had, too, rather than 
let dear Dr. Dupont feel ashamed of her. 
Let’s see. Where had I got to ? Oh ! I 
remember ; one times two is two — get off my 
clothes. Jimmy-cat I I can’t be mussed up 
by plain cats when I’m going on a ^ mystery.’ 
I — we all — think it’s a going somewhere. 
Oh, dear! I don’t stick to it, do I? Well, 

one times three is three; one — times ” 

Yawn. ‘‘ Wake up. Jimmy-cat, you make 
me sleepy, blinking in that sunshine. One 

times four is ” Another yawn, and for 

the time being, the end of the multiplication 
table. 

For an hour thereafter slumber and silence 
held cottage and smithy in their peace. Not 
even a wagon passed along the road to disturb 
the sleepers. But at the hour’s end a rumble 
and creaking, a shouting of gay voices, and 
calls for : 

Angel 1 Angel I Charlie — Little Sandy 
— Ailsie I Here we are 1 And just look 
there 1 She’s asleep — she’s asleep I ” 

“ I am not. I am not. I’ve been up since 
ever was I I thought that nine o’clock would 


274 


Little Miss Evangeline 


never come ; so I just shut my eyes a minute, 
because the sun was so bright. I can say the 
multiplication table with my eyes shut, can't 
I, Archie Melanson ? ” cried Angel, waking to 
find the lad shaking her shoulder and laugh- 
ing at her. 

“ You might, but I guess you didn't. Come 
on, hurry up. Where's Ailsie ? Sandy? 
Hurry, hurry ! " 

There before the cottage stood Farmer 
Melanson's ox-mobile " and his handsome, 
mottled oxen. But how transformed the 
whole affair ! Flags fluttered from the cart- 
rail, from the animals' heads, from every- 
body's hands ; English flags, save one — a big 
American banner that Winifred Lawrence 
waved over the top of all. Wreaths of roses 
hung round the oxen's necks and were strung 
along the sides of the wagon — wherever a 
place could be found to tie them. A rocking- 
chair at the back supported the portly form 
of Ma'am 'Liza, clad in her spotless gown and 
cap, her black face alight with smiles and, 
after the manner of her race, vastly excited 
by these doin's." 

Winifred, Marian, Ned — all were in white. 


One Mystery Explained 275 

he wearing his Sunday sailor-suit and already 
forgetting his mother's caution to be careful 
and keep clean. Even the farm-hand who 
drove had caught the infection of happiness 
and smiled his broadest upon the cottagers ; 
as, roused by Archie’s summons, all came fly- 
ing down the path — Ailsie still unwrinkled 
because of the nap which had kept her quiet, 
and little Sandy agape with surprise. Last of 
all came Charlie Micmac, polished to the last 
degree of elegance, according to his own 
judgment. His long hair was a-glisten with 
perfumed oil, he wore the stiflest of new 
shirts and collars, with a necktie that was 
fairly gorgeous in mixed colors. But he 
affected a nonchalance foreign to his real feel- 
ings, and took his place beside the driver 
with the remark : “ Hmm. Nothin’ but a 

picnic, after all.” 

Pretty big sort of affair, this picnic is, as 
maybe you’ll find out,” returned the driver. 

Wolfville way ? ” asked Charlie, indiffer- 
ently. 

To this there was no answer, except for the 
voluble chattering of young voices behind 
him ; with now and then a scream of warn- 


276 Little Miss Evangeline 

ing as some restless pair of feet came 
in contact with a napkin-covered basket. 
Baskets? The wagon seemed full of them, 
and the odors from beneath the covers set the 
cottagers’ mouths a- water. Seeing this, Ned 
dove beneath one cover and pulled out a 
gigantic sandwich, rich with stuffing and 
fragrant of fresh bread. 

“ Here, Little Sandy — Ailsie — Angel I 
Let’s have one all round, just to sample ’em.” 

'' Ned Melanson I You don’t begin to eat 
already I We haven’t started yet and you’ve 
just had your breakfast I There’s got to be 

dinner and supper both, and ” began 

Marian’s warning voice, which Winifred 
interrupted by saying : 

The best time to eat is when a body’s 
hungry, as I am now. I couldn’t eat my 
breakfast, I was too excited. Hand me one, 
Neddy, please ; and do you know, Angel, this 
is the first time, the very first time in all my 
life I ever went on a real country picnic, such 
as I suppose this is? I think it will be 
lovely, as lovely as the dear doctor whose 
treat it is. Funny, isn’t it? I’ve been on all 
sorts of trips and tours and traveled a lot; 


One Mystery Explained 277 

but a picnic — never before. We're to pick up 
the doctor at Wolfville and we're to have the 
rest of his happy ‘ mystery ' explained 
there." 

Since Winifred considered the sampling " 
of the sandwiches the correct thing, Marian 
altered her own opinion and passed the basket 
round, for a “second breakfast"; Charlie 
Micmac alone pretending that he didn't care 
for any, though inwardly his spirit groaned 
because his “ manliness " outweighed his ap- 
petite. 

“ Eat an' enj'y yo' good victuals when yo'- 
all's got ’em. Nebah know wheah yo'll be 
at when yo' hongry de next time ! " laughed 
Ma'am 'Liza, setting her white teeth into a 
second sandwich. 

But arrived at Wolfville, they did not 
“ pick up " the doctor as he had planned. 
True, he was on hand as the ox-team came 
down the village street, attracting much at- 
tention by its gay trimmings as well as by 
young voices singing most lustily : “ God 

save the King ! " to which Winifred as lustily 
added : “ And our President ! " 

“ Why, Dr. Dupont, what makes you look 


278 Little Miss Evangeline 

SO sober ? Aren't you going with us, wherever 
that’s to be?” asked Winifred, who was the 
first to see that his face wore no holiday ex- 
pression. 

He came up to them, smiling, indeed, but 
with real disappointment. 

No, youngsters, I find I cannot. An old 
patient has been taken seriously ill, and a 
doctor is never a free man. I’m more sorry 
than any of you can be, for I’m the biggest 
child of all — when fun is on the program. 
But, my dears, you must have it, and all 
the heartier, without me. I’ve chartered a 
launch, and you are to sail all over Minas 
Basin, till ^ the kye come hame!’ You are 
to scale Cape Blomidon and hunt for ame- 
thysts. You are to go further a-sea, even, 
away round to Cape Split and pay your re- 
spects to the Bay of Fundy. 

'' Though there’s one other little hitch in 
the plan. The owner of the launch, a first-rate 
sailor, finds that neither can he get away as 
promised. Business that means much to him 
calls him out of town ; but — he has a man 
whom he claims is as good as himself and un- 
derstands all about the launch and will take 


One Mystery Explained 279 

you on the trip. A Wolfville lad acts as mate 
on this voyage ; and — now to the pier with 
you, and a happy, happy day ! I’ll be on 
hand, I trust, to meet you at nine o’clock 
this evening. That hour should give you a 

glimpse of moonlight on the water and 

Gee ! Haw I Be off with the lot of you ! ” 

To the pier they hastened, indeed. A 
water picnic ! They had not dreamed of 
anything so delightful as this, and amid a 
tumult of happy voices they were all finally 
embarked and set sail.” 

Of that outward trip there is nothing worth 
recording, save that Ma’am ’Liza kept a close 
watch on the “ skipper ” of their little boat. 
She did not like his looks, and saw that the 
half-grown lad who served as helper, or 
mate ” seemed afraid of his temporary 
master. The captain made a great many 
trips to the little cabin and each time he 
came on deck again he was a little more 
morose than before. Also, after a time, this 
crossness gave place to a silly playfulness, 
which the young folks rather enjoyed but 
that alarmed her more and more. However, 
nobody was prepared for that which happened 


28o Little Miss Evangeline 

as the noon hour arrived, and sea-sharpened 
appetites called loudly for the baskets.” 

“ Yes’m, I reckon ’tis gwine erlong time fo* 
dinnah. Fotch up dem lunchins, son, an^ 
we-all done eat. ’Spec’ dere’s plenty good 
wateh aboa’d.” 

“ Of course. The doctor would have seen 
to that, and we’ve had some already, out of 
the cooler ; though it did seem nearly empty,” 
answered Archie, disappearing toward the 
little cabin. This had been entered by the 
captain only, until then, but since the baskets 
were nowhere else to be seen, they must be 
there, of course. 

Yet Archie was as long in finding them as 
Ned and Charlie in helping to bring them 
forth ; but it was Angel’s keenness which 
guessed the reason for this delay. Turning 
eagerly toward Marian, she demanded : 

Did you see those baskets put aboard ? 
Were they taken out of the ox-cart? ” 

Consternation followed this question. No- 
body answered, and when the lads reappeared, 
empty handed and with solemn faces, no 
verbal answer was necessary. 

Left behind I ” cried Marian, at last, and 


One Mystery Explained 281 

angrily. “ Who dared do such a thing as 
that ? Whose fault was it ? The baskets that 
mother took such pains to fix I That’s per- 
fectly awful I ” 

Each looked at the other but none assumed 
the blame. 

The captain should have seen to them.” 
''It was your place, Archie.” "No such 
thing, Marian Melanson ! It was your own ! ” 
" Isn’t we going to have our dinner ? ” wailed 
Ailsie, at the end. 

Ma’am ’Liza held up her hand to silence 
the dispute : 

" ’Peahs lak what’s ev’ybody’s business 
nevah’s nobody’s. An’, Massa Cha’lie, yo’ 
bein’ de manlies’ young gempleman erlong, 
it’s bes’ yo’se’f step down an’ speak dat captain 
fair. Yo’ gwine tell him ef he done lef ’ ouah 
baskets behin’, what it wor his juty see put 
aboa’d, he mus’ jest tu’n to an’ get us somepin’ 
outen his own cupboa’d. An’ de soonah de 
bettah.” 

The young Indian straightened himself. 
He had never before been addressed as 
" Mister ” and a thrill of pride sent a flush to 
his cheek, as he answered : 


282 Little Miss Evangeline 

I’ll do it ! I’ll get the best he’s got — or 
know the reason why.” 

But there was less of pride when he re- 
turned, bringing a tin of ship-biscuit and a 
piece of boiled ham as this best.” Indeed, 
since he was the hungriest one of the party 
his disappointment was the greatest. The 
cottage fare that Angel had been giving him, 
of late, had sharpened his desire for some of 
Mrs. Melanson’s good things which, having 
early been admitted to the doctor’s mystery,” 
she had been long preparing. In one basket 
he had been shown iced cakes and dainty 
knickknacks such as he had only seen in 
bakers’ windows — and to lose them — ah I it 
was bitter. Worst of all, even the water sup- 
ply was short. Search where he would, there 
was nothing to refill the empty cooler and the 
very fact itself made him and all feel doubly 
thirsty. 

“ Is that all ? ” cried Angel, anxiously. 

All. And I had a job to get so much.” 

Oh, dear ! Then I wish we’d never heard 
of this ‘ mystery,’ ” said Ned. ’Tisn’t half 
so nice as mother’s dinner at home I ” 


CHAPTER XIX 


AN UNSELFISH DIGBY CHICKEN 

“ Never mind, Ma^am ^Liza’s divided the 
things even, and treated us all alike, fair as 
fair ; and what we can’t have we can go with- 
out. More’n that, what’s a supper a little 
later? Nine o’clock we’ll be back to Wolf- 
ville, anyway, and we can eat the stuff that’s 
in the baskets riding home. If we did forget 
some things it’s a nice ‘ mystery ’ still. I like 
it on this splendid boat — so much bigger than 
a rowing one. And this great water, with the 
sweet breeze and the sweeter smell — I love 
the water. I just love it ! ” cried Angel, 
whose spirits nothing could long depress. 

^^Are you happy, dear?” asked Winifred, 
to whom the launch seemed a very paltry 
affair, and who would much have preferred a 
sailboat, with a competent captain in com- 
mand. 

I was never happier, never. Why, just to 
think, I haven’t a single thing to do, ’cept sit 
283 


284 Little Miss Evangeline 

around and watch the waves and the sky and 
the gulls flying. I’ve got on my pretty dress, 
and it’s right for me to use it — this time. My 

shoes O Winnie, sweet I I think they 

are too heavenly for words. I never, never, 
never dreamed I should have a pair of truly 
white shoes all my own. There’s just but one 
thing bad about them : they will get dirty and 
some day they will grow too small, or I too 
big; and ” 

“ That’s two, three things already, Angel 
Brevard I But my shoes are white, too, and 
the shoe-man told my mother about doing 
them with pipe-clay, and I’ll show you, too. 
Say, doesn’t it seem awful lonesome, clear out 
here on the Basin, away from all our grown 
up folks, except Ma’am ’Liza, and her asleep ? ’’ 
asked Marian, curling down beside the other 
girls upon the deck, where Ailsie now drowsed 
with her head on Winifred’s knee. 

But the little one’s lashes were wet with 
recent tears and Angel held up a warning 
finger. 

“ S-sh ! Mannie, dear. Don’t talk homesick 
talk. All at once Ailsie, too, got homesick 
and said she wanted to see Big Sandy. She’d 


Unselfish ‘^Digby Chicken’’ 285 

rather see Big Sandy than anything in the 
world. It is a pretty big water, and there 
aren’t so many boats as might be. Down at 
Digby there are lots and lots of boats of every 
sort of kind. But see 1 We’re almost 
to Blomidon I Dear old Blomidon, that 
Charlie Micmac’s people called Glooscap’s 
home, ‘ Glooscap-week ’ ; I read it in a book.” 

Who was ‘ Glooscap,’ Angel?” asked Wini- 
fred, fixing her blue eyes on the mighty rock 
they were approaching. 

He was the Micmac’s Great Spirit. He 
was God. He never was ill, nor grew old ; and 
he couldn’t die. He isn’t at Blomidon now 
because he got angry at something. Mere 
Marie told me, too. Minas Basin was for his 
beavers to live in. That island over there 
used to be a kettle to cook his dinner in, and 
those two rocks were once his dogs. When 
he got angry and went away he fixed every- 
thing hard, like that, so it should stay till he 
comes back. Mere Marie told Charlie all the 
story. I should think if he thinks, now, it 
would make him feel all sort of queer, down 
inside his heart, or whatever place it is you do 
feel queer in, like when you go to a church 


286 Little Miss Evangeline 

and hear the organ play. Those times I get 
all shivery like and I think if I could only 
get that kind of music out of anything I 
should about die of that sweet queerness. So 
I think,” said Angel, so deeply moved by 
her nearness to this vast Cape of Legends, 
that she clasped her hands in that ecstatic 
fashion of hers and looked up into the sky, 
seeing visions. 

But no such profound emotion stirred 
Charlie Micmac’s breast as he came to the 
home of his fathers’ God. He was busy talk- 
ing to the skipper’s assistant, evidently argu- 
ing out some matter over which the young 
sailor hesitated. Yet they finally seemed to 
come to an agreement, and something passed 
from the Indian’s hand to the other’s. 

Marian discovered that this was money and 
marveled at the sight. She kept her keen 
eyes fixed on the pair, to learn what could 
possibly induce Charlie Micmac to part with 
that of which he had so little, and wondering 
how he could have earned it. 

But, for the present, nothing rewarded her 
vigilance. The captain came out of his cabin 
and the launch came to a standstill. A small 


Unselfish “Digby Chicken” 287 

boat was dropped over the side and held there 
while the two girls, who were bound for the 
amethyst hunt upon the rocks of the cape, 
were helped into it ; Charlie Micmac and the 
young sailor being most active in this matter, 
and as Angel said so terribly friendly they 
must want something.’^ 

Well, we do. Tm glad that lame girl’s 
Ma’am ’Liza wouldn’t let her come. How’d 
she ever ^^got around these stones, with them 
crutches ? ” 

“ I don’t know, Charlie, but I’d like to have 
had her. Seems if when one goes on one’s 
first country-water-picnic they ought to have 
all the fun there is. I know she’ll feel bad, 
but I’ll give her the very nicest amethysts I 
find ; and I s’pose it’s not so lonesome for Ail- 
sie having her stay on the launch. Ma’am 
’Liza ’ll tell them funny stories and sing songs, 
so maybe they won’t mind — much. But what 
is it you want, boy ? You said you did want 
something.” 

^^Well, nothin’. Me and this feller and 
Archie and Ned is goin’ a fishin’. I’ve hired 
him. We won’t be gone long, and I want to 
get off* quick, ’fore that captain can come to 


288 


Little Miss Evangeline 

his wits and call us back. He’s asleep now ; 
and you can just stay here on the beach till 
we get through. If we have luck we’ll cook 
a fish on the rocks and have a hot supper after 
all. Hold on. Here’s my handkercher. It’s 
clean. I just bought it to Wolfville, and you 
can take it to put your amethysts in. Maybe, 
if you got a good lot, you could sell ’em to 
tourists for money.” 

With that the young Indian tossed toward 
Angel the article in question, and bending 
over it, in amused inspection of its gaudy 
colored pattern, the girls scarcely noticed that 
the small boat had pushed away and returned 
to the launch. Instantly, Archie and Ned 
dropped over the side into it, and two pairs of 
oars swiftly widened the distance between it 
and the larger vessel. 

My heart I Aren’t these the sharpest 
stones you ever saw ? I don’t wonder they 
have to have lighthouses to warn ships off 
them. And look up ! Old Blomidon looks 
like one terrible, mighty rock, and so steep. 
I wouldn’t like to try and climb up its side, 
would you ? Ouch ! I’ve slipped once al- 
ready ! ” cried Angel, gazing about on the 



“ I 


DIDN’T think; it 


LOOKED SO WIDE” 






Unselfish “Digby Chicken” 289 

stones, that looked as if hewn and cast by 
giants. 

Marian turned, shaded her eyes with her 
hand and stared out to sea, and a return of 
that “ horrid homesick feeling came over 
her. Both she and Angel were used to the 
water and could row fairly well, but to be in 
a boat upon it and to be stranded in such a 
spot as this were two different things. 

Evangeline Brevard, I call that mean I 
Those boys have gone away, way off — almost 
out of sight already. That’s the only boat 
there was on the launch, and if it wasn’t and 
if we wanted to get back, that stupid captain 
might not be willing to come. But I don’t 
see anything funny, in it and if we want even 
to speak to Winifred and the rest we can’t 
make them hear. I didn’t think it looked 
so wide between, coming across, but now 
I— I If ” 

Angel’s own heart felt a trifle queer ” and, 
for a moment, she wished — as Marian cer- 
tainly did — that they had stayed on the 
launch. Then she put the feeling down and 
answered, laughing : 

What an ‘ If ’-er, you are, Mannie, dear. 


290 Little Miss Evangeline 

See here. These stones are going to spoil our 
shoes. Let’s take them off and go without. 
I can’t have mine hurt, I just cannot. And 
yours are spick-span new. Let’s.” 

The appeal touched Marian’s good sense, 
and she forgot to be afraid. 

“ Yes, let’s. We can roll them up in the 
stockings and tuck them in this nice corner 
between stones. I don’t like barefoot much, 
but feet and stockings will wash. Shoes 
won’t. I’ll tuck up my skirt, too. I don’t 
think our best things are just what we needed 
for such a water-picnic, do you ? ” 

They dropped down upon as smooth a stone 
as they could find, and removed their shoes, 
Angel replying, in defence of the doctor, that : 

“ He wanted us to have things nice for our 
nice time. I heard him tell Winifred once 
how he wished every little girl would wear 
white dresses always. He said they were the 
most — most ^ hygyannic ’ or something. I 
guess he meant healthy. He said they washed 
better than turkey reds, even if the launder- 
woman did use soft soap ! He was teasing me 
then, but I didn’t mind. I love him, and I 
was glad I had a white one to please him. 


Unselfish “Digby Chicken” 291 

Ouch ! This wonT do I I can’t — it hurts — I 
must sit right down and put them back.” 

Marian’s feet hurt, too, and she as promptly 
tied on her own new Oxfords, though she 
sighed over the necessity. But the operation 
of changing had diverted their minds and 
they now set about the amethyst hunt, re- 
gardless of clothes. 

It was most interesting. The narrow clove 
in the great cape’s side was bordered all 
around by this beach of sharp stones, and 
dwindled in width the deeper one penetrated 
it. At present the strip of water between the 
sides could almost have been stepped across, 
and even a rowboat would have been too large 
to sail up to its inner end. It looked so safe, 
the sun shone so brightly, and the purple bits 
of quartz gleamed so enticingly here and 
there, that soon the girls forgot everything 
save the search they had come upon. 

For a long time they clambered about, 
hunting, slipping, screaming out at each fresh 
slip, and regardless of the hours that had 
passed ; till, all at once, Angel felt something 
wet upon her ankle and saw that the tide was 
coming in. 


292 Little Miss Evangeline 

“ O Mannie ! Look out ! The tide’s rising ! 
I’ve got my feet wet, already. Take care of 
yours I ” 

“I will.. But doesn’t it make a pretty 
sound ? I like that lap-lap-lapping. I often 
sit on our own beach and listen to it, but there 
aren’t any good sitting-places here. These 
rocks — why, they get sharper and jaggeder, 
the further we go.” 

Never mind. We won’t have to go back 
the same way. This clove is wider toward the 
top and the boat can row ever so much further 
in than where it left us. That’ll save us 
walking, and I’m beginning to get sort of 
tired, aren’t you ? ” said Angel, straightening 
her back, that ached from stooping. 

“ Yes, but — the boat ? Hasn’t it been gone 
a terribly long time ? And look there. The 
fog’s coming. I can’t see but a little way be- 
yond the launch. It's shivery. The sun 
doesn’t shine way in here so deep, or else the 

fog Hark ! Angel, what is that noise ? ” 

I don’t hear anything but water — 

waves My heart ! How fast it comes ! 

We’ll have to climb higher, and now, too, or 
we’ll get soaking wet. Hurry, hurry I I'd hate 


Unselfish “Digby Chicken” 293 

to spoil my frock same as I’m afraid I have my 
shoes. I once put one pair into water and 

it shrivelled them up Hurry, Mannie I 

Hurry I 

There was no need for urging. Marianas 
face was almost as white as her gown and her 
blue eyes were wild with terror. 

Something's happened to that boat ! I 
know it I My brothers — O Angel, they’ve 
been drowned ! ” 

The cry shot through the cottager’s heart 
like a knife, and for an instant she could not 
speak. Then she retorted : 

“ It’s no such thing. They aren’t drowned. 
They shan’t drown, just off on a picnic, this 
way. Why, those boys know as much about 
boats as they do about wagons ; and Charlie 
Micmac has been out with the fishing fieets, 
time and again. He says so himself, though 
I don’t know when. S’pose it was when I 
was at home in Digby. I’m quite a ^ Digby 
chicken ’ myself — that’s a herring, you know 
— and can swim almost as well as a fish. In 
water that isn’t too rough. My brother Paul 

taught me — and Oh ! I wish he were 

here ! I wish Climb, climb, Marian I 


294 Little Miss Evangeline 

Fast, fast 1 The tide — tidal bore — and it’s 
coming our way — it’s coming ! Climb 1 ” 

Grand-Pierre had once explained that this 
“ bore ” was like a mighty gambol of the 
seas. That the old Atlantic had chased with 
its tide the Bay of Fundy ; and speeding be- 
fore that larger ocean the Bay had chased old 
Minas Basin ; and Minas had chased all its 
own bordering streams and inlets — till the 
rushing waves rose many feet high. In this 
gigantic “ play ” all things were washed away 
that dared resist. And in this cove of old 
Blomidon — there were water-marks high up, 
high up. 

Climb, Marian, climb ! ” 

Angel, I can’t ! It’s straighter than a 
wall ! It’s dark — I’m slipping — I shall be 
drowned ! O Angel, Angel ! My mother ! ” 
You must. You shall. You can. For 
her sake — climb ! ” 

But Marian could do no more. With its 
horrible roar and crest of foam the “ bore ” was 
filling every crevice of the narrow clove, and 
the fog that came with it stified her breath. 

But not Angel’s. A strange and furious 
anger possessed her against this rush of water 


Unselfish ^^Digby Chicken” 


295 

— mere water. Clinging to the face of the 
wall, almost perpendicular at this point, she 
scanned the portions nearest and above. One 
narrow shelf projected. So narrow it was one 
might not safely stand with nothing to clasp 
in support, yet higher than the point where 
they had paused to breathe. Indeed so narrow 
and so short there was room but for one. 
Marian was clumsy but she, Angel, was 
nimble and sure-footed. One instant she 
hesitated. Why lose that one chance for her- 
self, since Marian could not make use of it ? 

Then the roar of the awful water sounded 
again and her hesitation ended. 

Marian, be still. Listen to me. Put 
your two hands there. Dig your knees 
against the rock. High up — your hands I 
High, to the top I Now pull — I’ll push I In 
a minute you’ll be on the ledge — and it’s 
above the water mark I Pull I Climb I Oh ! 
good — you’re safe I ” 

I’ll fall I ” 

You shan’t, for I shall hold you steady 

till ” 

You can’t ” 

** I can. I must. What I must I can I 


CHAPTER XX 


AFTEK THE PERIL PEACE 

A SOUND that seemed to come from far, far 
away at last reached Angel’s ears. With the 
feeling that she was fighting the waves of the 
sea, and had been always fighting them, till 
now she had no strength left, she made a 
desperate effort and opened her eyes. 

Angel, you precious Angel ! Wake up, 
and let me thank you, bless you for — saving 
my child’s life ! Oh ! you dear, brave, unsel- 
fish Angel ! ” 

** Why — how — strange ! ” she answered 
weakly, then again dropped her eyelids that 
she might shut out these bewildering sur- 
roundings and try to understand. Gradually 
her mind began to act. 

She remembered, though dimly, as if the 
fog which had enveloped her were in her 
brain as well as over the whole world. She 
had been on a rock, high, high up. There 
was a girl’s body between her and the rock 
296 


After the Peril— Peace 


297 


and she had to stretch her arms around it 
and cling, cling, to hold it firm, that it might 
not slip down and be lost. She had to do it. 
There was water all about her. She felt it 
creeping, creeping. Long since it had covered 
her dear white shoes. It was swishing her 
Sunday frock about her knees. She had 
wondered if, when she washed it, it would 
be spotted like “ old reddy.’’ She didn’t 
know. She hoped ; and at last she didn’t 
care. 

Next came a man’s voice, tremulous and 
tender, and the brush of a man’s beard upon 
her cheek. 

She put up her shaking hand to push it 
aside and protested : 

Don’t ! You scratch ! ” 

“ Hurrah ! That’s Angel ! Here’s our 
Angel, back again out of the land of 
dreams ! ” cried the same voice, now glad 
and strong. 

Then herself once more, as her impatient 
protest had assured them, she looked up into 
the faces of Dr. Dupont and Mrs. Melanson, 
side by side, bending above a wide bed on 
which she lay. 


298 Little Miss Evangeline 


*‘Why — why — where am I? Is — does 

“ I reckon, sweetheart, that the new hospital 
has begun, and you’re the first patient in it. 
Mrs. Melanson is head nurse and Ma’am ’Liza 
is first assistant. Here she comes this minute, 
with a bowl of steaming beef broth, and the 
sooner you drink it the sooner you can try on 
a new pair of white shoes and a brand new 
Sunday frock I Heigho ! I feel like hurrah- 
ing ! ” 

Angel tried to sit up, and the doctor had 
his arm about her in an instant. 

But where am I, truly am I ? I never 

was in this room before. All undressed ” 

That’s not your own ^ nightie,’ don’t 
imagine it. Let me tell you. Once I was at 
a house where there was a brand new baby. 

It had a brand new mother and she 

Well, I suppose she thought clothes grew, 
just as baby-chickens’ feathers do. Anyhow, 
there wasn’t a ^ slip ’ to be had for the baby 
to wear, so I made it one. I took the pillow- 
case and I cut a hole in the sewed-up end for 
its neck ; and two little holes for its arms, and 
there it was I Fine as silk, and just as happy 
as — as you were in that frock you spoiled.” 


After the Peril — Peace 299 

Angel laughed. So did Mrs. Melanson. 
So did Ma^am ’Liza, till the broth she carried 
spilled over right on the doctor’s coat. Did 
he care ? Not a bit. And then — here came 
more laughers — the room was full of them I 
Archie, Winifred, Ned, Charlie Micmac, and 
Grand-Pierre, Grand-Pierre ! 

“ Cherie I Sweetheart I Light of my life I 
Whom the dear Lord saved lest I die desolate I 
Angel, petite, my little maid, my own I ” 

The old man was kneeling now beside the 
bed and they two clung very close ; while all 
the others turned their eyes aside just for the 
moment — but only for that moment. For 
the wise doctor knew that there would be no 
further strain on the emotions for any person 
present. Danger there had been, but it was 
past. Well, then, forget it ; and, thanking 
God, just be happy, as childlike old Pierre 
Brevard had shown them the way. 

“ Where’s Marian ? ” demanded Angel, loos- 
ing her arms from the old Acadian’s neck, 
that he might rise and spare his knees. 

Was she ” she dared not finish her ques- 

tion and closed her eyes again, with a fresh 
memory of an awful hour. 


300 Little Miss Evangeline 

No, she wasn^t. Not a bit. Badly scared 
and sadly drenched — for another new frock 
spoiled by salt water is a mighty sad affair, 
for a girl. To save your asking questions 

and leave you free to go to sleep Just 

listen ! Four rather bad, rather good, 
wholly thoughtless boys went a-fishing and 
didnT catch a fish, which served them right. 
But they got so interested in their own affairs 
that they forgot two little maids they had left 
seeking amethysts upon a rocky shore. Then 
up came a fog and a ‘ bore,’ which, as you 
know, means a dangerous tidal wave, and 
frightened them half to death. Till one of 
them, whose forbears knew all about that old 
Blomidon, remembered ; and after that the 
way those lads rowed would beat a college 
race all hollow. The fog bothered them, but 
an Indian can tell directions and distances 
with his eyes shut. No matter about all the 
little things in this story. In Winifred’s 
‘ nick of time ’ they got to the clove and the 
water was so nice and high in there that 
they picked those two forgotten maids off* 
old Glooscap-week without a speck of 
trouble. 


After the Peril— Peace 


301 


It was a deal more trouble to find the 
launch, for the skipper was still asleep ; but a 
girl named Winifred Lawrence, who had 
never been on such a boat before, hunted 
around until she found a lamp and lighted it. 
Then she made Ma’am ’Liza stand at the rail 
and make herself into a portable lighthouse. 
Also, Winifred got a horn from somewhere 
and megaphoned at such a rate and racket, 
that the bad boys heard it, and made for the 
launch — and got there. To be continued in 
our next.” 

No, no. Dr. Dupont. This must be ^ next.’ 

How came — didn’t I know — Marian 

There’s such a lot more. Please tell.” 

It’s not polite to quiz a man about the 
fag-end of a ‘ mystery ’ that’s come to grief — 
or happiness, as it proves after all. Well, the 
fog was pretty thick, and the skipper’s head 
ditto, and the young sailor not so wise about 
naphtha launches as he might have been, 
though he did his best and brought you safely 
in. Not by nine o’clock, however ; he couldn’t 
make it by nine o’clock. So the night being 
what it was, and that ^ bore ’ on hand, an 
anxious mother and an anxious doctor were 


302 Little Miss Evangeline 

at the wharf long before the time first set. 
There they stayed and waited, and waited, 
and waited ! ‘ All things come to him who 

waits,^ somebody said, and for once hit the 
nail on the head. For you all came. And 
then we heard from Archie that you’d given 
to his sister the only safe place within your 
reach, and held her in it, and, by God’s bless- 
ing, saved her life. 

When the ' Happy Maria ’ got home the 
tide was out, and that boat was so low down 
in the mud that we had to get a ladder and — 
and I’ll never tell how we got good Ma’am 
’Liza up that slippery ladder on to dry land ! 
Not I. There’s no need. The night was 
dark, the hour was late and it’s later yet, this 
minute. Why, I believe it’s almost time for 
Father Michael to be crowing ! I’ve turned 
my house into a hotel for transients, and every- 
body present is going to spend the hours ’twixt 
now and sunup in it. They’ve all had a 
good supper, out of forgotten baskets and my 
old housekeeper’s cofFee-pot, Marian is asleep on 
the office lounge, and the sooner you are too 
— here in my own bedroom — the better ! 
Good-night, good-morning, little Acadian ! I 


After the Peril — Peace 303 

reckon that what you've done this day has 
ended the feud between your people and 

the English. Good-night, and Shoo I 

everybody ! " 

Thus in his own whimsical manner had the 
good doctor told the story of a barely averted 
tragedy, and at his request nobody repeated it 
or kept it fresh in the actors' minds by ques- 
tions put or answered. 

Angel slept well, and late ; yet even then 
she was not allowed to rise. For one whole 
day, by doctor's orders," she lay quiet and 
recovered from the strain of her long trial on 
old Blomidon. Pierre Brevard stayed with 
her, but the others went back to Grand Pr6, 
almost at the peep of day. This was also by 
the doctor's advice, yet not from lack of hos- 
pitality. By an early passage over the road 
there would be fewer interruptions by inter- 
ested neighbors, and he wanted the young 
Melansons to forget." 

Dear Mrs. Melanson, I want you to stop 
me if you ever hear of my getting up another 
^ mystery.' I'm not proud of my success in 
that line and wouldn't make you accessory in 
the matter of cakes and cookies. Yes, the 


304 Little Miss Evangeline 

best way to jog happily through life is to do 
a great deal of forgetting.’' 

“ Very well, doctor, I’ll remember. But 
one good turn deserves another, and I want 
you to persuade old Pierre into letting me do 
more for Angel. Also, the very first small 
thing is : I shall have two new white frocks, 
exactly alike, and two new pairs of the finest 
white shoes made for the two heroines of your 
' mystery.’ Will you persuade him to put his 
pride in his pocket and let me give them this 
small pleasure ? ” 

“ Surely I will, and I’ll promise for him in 
advance. Only you’re making a mistake — 
the mistake of your life. Once begin to do 
things for anybody outside your own and the 
habit grows. You’ll keep on doing. That lit- 
tle ‘ Digby chicken,’ as Archie calls her, will 
yet have the cosiest corner of your fish-pond ; 
and when she’s swimming round in it, please 
remember, good friend, that I told you so.” 

I never saw a chicken swim, Dr. Dupont I 
But I’ll remember ! And now to my house- 
work and good-bye I ” 

They parted with a smile on either side, 
and the physician inwardly rejoicing : 


After the Peril — Peace 


305 

One of the best women in the world, if she 
has been a trifle headstrong. It^s taken just 
this fright about her daughter to soften her 
prosperous heart and make her a bit more 
^ human like,’ as old Mere Marie used to say.” 

Small and slight though she was, Angel was 
perfectly healthy. In two days she was back 
at the cottage, none the worse for her exposure 
either mentally or physically. She did not 
think of herself as a heroine and, after Mrs. 
Melanson’s first outburst of gratitude, nobody 
sought to tell her that she was. She went about 
her housework with even more energy than 
before, that one day in the doctor’s home having 
shown her how happy a life could be that 
was wholly spent for others. 

But down in her heart of hearts lay a pro- 
found thankfulness for God’s care of her in 
peril, and the devotions offered beside Mere « 
Marie’s resting place in the old churchyard 
were more frequent than before. 

Winifred came almost daily to the shut 
room, yet the secret of their hours within it 
was not disclosed. The cripple had, however, 
guessed at the poverty of which her friend 
never spoke. The patched-out slippers had 


3o 6 Little Miss Evangeline 

told that story and so, no matter how tired 
she was on most days, she had a little “ sitting’' 
with Angel, or Grand-Pierre, or even Jimmy- 
cat ; and for each “pose ” she paid into Angel’s 
money-stocking the sum of fifty cents, in good 
Canadian cash. 

So they were very happy days, and of happi- 
ness there is not much to tell. Charlie Mic- 
mac still tarried at the cottage, no longer re- 
gretting Mrs. Melanson’s “ good victuals,” 
because “ with fifty cents almost every day, 
the fresh-meat-man stopped whenever Angel 
beckoned to him.” 

“ Sugar ! I don’t care where I eat at, so 
long as I eat reg’lar victuals ; and Kaddy, well 
Kaddy’s sort of used to our farm.” 

“ I should think he was used, never having 
lived anywhere else. And next time Winifred 
Lawrence comes to our table I do wish you 
wouldn’t talk about ‘ victuals.’ I don’t mind, 
myself, because I’ve always heard you, and they 
are victuals, I suppose. But she says it makes 
her think of cold leavings and beggars at the 
door. She’s real particular, Winnie is. I’m 
sorry her folks are coming for her, by and by. 
But — we’ve done such a lot already Oh I 


After the Peril— Peace 307 

my heart ! I will talk spite of every- 
thing.” 

Say, Angel, what is it you two creator’s 
do-do in there, shut up so tight ? Think you 
might let a feller into your circus once in a 
dog’s-age ! ” said the lad, pausing with milk 
pail in hand. 

“ We don’t ' do-do ’ a single thing. We just 
mind — mind our own business. And we never 
have a ^ circus,’ except when Jimmy-cat won’t 
pose still and I chase him. But don’t stand 
and stare. You’ve got to get that milk milked 
and strained so I can wash the pail, and don’t 
you spill a drop. We can’t waste any. Mrs. 
Melanson says * wilful waste makes woeful 
want,’ and we mustn’t wilful any. Wasn’t 
that beefsteak cooked nicely? Haven’t I 
learned to use a gridiron a little bit ? ” 

“ Good enough. Sugar ! Speaking of 
angels, here comes that Lawrence miss, in 

Farmer’s best rig; and Sugar! She’s 

got a man and woman with her. More’n that 
— just look a there! Big Sandy Wylde’s 
a-settin’ right in his front forge door and 
noddin’ at us, proud as the king ! My ! sugar 
—land ! ” 


3o 8 Little Miss Evangeline 

Oh I Then that means all my good times 
are over I cried Angel, with a down-sinking 
of her loving heart. Winifred's going and 

we haven't half begun — even Oh I I'm 

so sorry I " 


CHAPTER XXI 


COMPENSATIONS 

Angel, come here. This is my Aunt 
Betty and Uncle Jack Winslow. And I’m 
so happy I ” 

The cottager came modestly forward and 
made her prettiest curtsey, as she had been 
taught by Mere Marie, and the lady in the 
surrey thought she had never seen anything 
more charming than this little maid in her red 
frock — it happened to be “ the other one ” and 
fairly free from spots. It was such an alert, 
earnest little face that glanced up from beneath 
a tangle of dark curls that would forever be 
tumbling over the brown eyes ; such a 
piquante, tip-tilted nose ; such a winning 
mouth with its red lips and snowy teeth ; 
altogether such a simple, graceful young 
creature, that she did not wonder Winifred 
had rather raved ” over her in the letters she 
had written. 

Good-morning, my dear ; for you’re the 
309 


310 Little Miss Evangeline 

heroine Angel IVe heard so much about, I 
suppose. I am very glad to know you.’’ 

“ Thank you. Will you please to come in 
and sit down ? The gentleman, too, if he’d 
like. My Grand-Pierre and Big Sandy are at 
the forge, though, if he’d rather be with them.” 

Surely, and thank you, Miss Angel. I 
always prefer men to women — and little maids 
to either 1 ” cried Uncle Jack, leaping to the 
ground and turning to help his wife down. 

Winifred laughed and hugged his rotund 
back : 

O, you jolly Uncle Jack I ” 

Angel smiled, too ; nobody could help it 
who saw Mr. Winslow, for he seemed the very 
embodiment of mirth and good feeling. She 
didn’t wonder that Winnie was so happy, 
though her own heart sank. Their coming 
meant her friend’s leaving, and till that 
moment Angel had not known how well she 
loved her. She remembered once hearing 
Mere Marie say, when Grand-Pierre went 
gaily away on one of his long hunting trips : 
“ ’Tis easy for them that go and heartache for 
them who are left.” Alas ! her heartache had 
already begun. 


Compensations 311 

But Winifred loved, also ; if not as deeply 
as Angel yet well enough to understand the 
shadow that fell upon the cottager’s face. 
Slipping her arm about the red-clad shoulders 
for an instant, before they started houseward, 
she explained : 

Oh ! they haven’t come to take me away 
but to stay ! Think of that I I’ve written 
them so much about this valley that they’re 
going to try it for themselves. Aunt Betty is 
tired of hotels. She thinks they are all alike, 
the world over. They came last night on the 
^ Flying Bluenose,’ and she says they’ll try 
being ^ Bluenoses ’ themselves for a time. 
Mrs. Melanson is going to board them and has 
given them her other large room right across 

from mine. Aunt Betty ” 

‘‘ What magnificent hollyhocks ! ” exclaimed 
that lady, interrupting. Beg pardon, Win- 
nie, but I know how you can chatter when 
you get started, and I can’t help crying out 
over those fiowers. Do you care for them 
yourself, little Angel ? ” 

Yes’m, Mrs. Winslow. I mean — they 
take care of themselves, I guess ! ” answered 
the girl, now radiant with happiness again. 


312 Little Miss Evangeline 

and sweeping another curtsey, she led the 
way house ward between the borders of homely 
garden flowers. 

Winifred flashed a signiflcant glance into 
her aunt’s eyes as she limped alongside ; a 
glance that asked plainly as words : 

“Have I overpraised her? Isn’t she the 
very sweetest thing ? ” and to this was nodded : 
“ Yes, indeed she is, and you’ve not said half 
enough.” 

Angel wanted to stare at this strange vis- 
itor, and only turned her eyes away because 
she remembered “ staring is rude.” She had 
never seen a grown-up woman who was so 
like a child in her freedom from care and 
high good spirits, and she was fascinated. 
This Mrs. Winslow was more like Dr. Dupont 
than anybody she knew. Her love of life, of 
all its good things and good times and good 
people, shone from her smiling eyes, her every 
gesture ; and there was about her that same 
simplicity of manner which had made Angel 
always forget the difference between Wini- 
fred’s social position and her own. 

“ Where’s Jack ? Off to the forge already ? 
My dears, he’s up to mischief I The ^ wander- 


Compensations 313 

lust ^ is on him. Ever since Winifred came 
here and began to write, he’s been minded to 
go a-fishing, and a-hunting, and a-woodsying 
in general. He’ll never rest till he gets his 
sportsman’s license, a camping outfit, and 
your Grand-Pierre for guide. That’s what 
he’s talking about this minute, I believe.” 

And it was. While these three sat on the 
little porch of the cottage, which Mrs. Win- 
slow declared was “ like a house built out 
of vines alone,” so closely covered were its 
old stone walls, out there at the old smithy 
schemes were concocting that brought the fire 
almost of youth into Grand-Pierre’s bright 
eyes. 

Watch your grandfather’s gestures, Angel. 
I declare, you Acadians are as French in your 
looks and manners as if you’d just come from 
old France with all your traditions fresh. I 
like it. I like this charming Gaspereau valley 
and quiet Grand Pre. I shall love to live 
here for a time and rest. Not that I need 
rest, exactly, but a body should get down to 
nature, now and then, to keep oneself clean 
and sincere. One gets tarnished, after a time, 
by too much ' society ’ and its insincerity. I 


314 Little Miss Evangeline 

fancy there’s not much insincerity among you 
^ Bluenoses/ is there, Angel ? ” 

I — don’t know,” answered the little girl, 
puzzled somewhat, but guessing that the 
question meant whether truth-telling were 
common in Nova Scotia. I think nearly 
everybody tells the truth, here, usually ; and 
the Acadians always. Though there aren’t 
many of us left.” 

“ Oh ! you naive little thing. You — you’re 


Winifred saw the color rising in Angel’s 
mobile face and interrupted : 

Beg pardon. Aunt Betty, but why are the 
Nova Scotians called * Bluenoses ’ ? ” 

I can’t get a good answer to that question 
myself, dear, though I’ve asked it of all sorts 
and conditions of people. Some say it’s from 
a certain kind of potato that grows here 
better than anywhere else in the world ; 
others that it came from the Indians — though 
it doesn’t sound a bit Indian to me. Some 
lay it to the climate, which pinches noses blue 
for a good part of the year. But the most 
honest answer I’ve received yet is — ^ I don’t 
know.’ Just look at those sweet-peas I and 


Compensations 315 

smell them I How lovely ! I never saw 
flowers grow anywhere as they do in Nova 
Scotia, not even in our own Southland. And 
somebody must have delighted in them here. 
Your grounds and garden are just rich with 
the dear, old-fashioned plants we see so sel- 
dom elsewhere. Is it that Grand-Pierre of 
yours ? 

“ Oh I no. He likes them, of course. 
Everybody does ; but it was Mere Marie who 
planted them, and they seemed always to 
thrive for her. All those queer stones along 
the beds were brought to her by folks who 
knew she liked such things. Anybody who 
had a new rose-bush, or a new poppy, or pink, 
or anything, always fetched my M^re Marie 
a piece or a seed. All she had to do was put 
it in the ground and it grew. She had a 
* gift ^ I s^pose. Excuse me a minute,^’ con- 
cluded Angel, rising and disappearing within ; 
and reflecting, as she went : 

I like Aunt Betty. She makes me feel 
nice and think of the things I ought to do, 
like getting her a glass of milk and one of those 
biscuits Dr. Dupont gave me, yesterday, when 
he went by. Mrs. Melanson doesn’t make me 


31 6 Little Miss Evangeline 

think that way. She makes me remember if 
my shoe is untied or my frock unbuttoned, or 
dirt under the table — and things like that. 
Yet she^s good. She’s good as gold, doctor 
himself told me, and it’s my duty to love her. 
My ! I hope it’ll be my duty to love Aunt 

Betty, too, for that would be as easy as ” 

“ Sugar! What you doin’, Angel Brevard?” 
cried Charlie Micmac, springing up from the 
ground behind the cottage, where the path 
ran toward the spring-house. 

Why — spilling the milk 1 ” she returned, 
so startled that she tipped her pitcher sidewise 
and its contents upon her frock. But what 
are you doing, yourself, here in the morning 
time when you ought to be working in the 
corn lot? And what in the world are you 
digging under the chimney for ? ” 

None of your business. I mean No 

matter what I mean. Give me a drink of 
that buttermilk, won’t you ? ” 

Angel’s eyes were still very wide open. 
This was the second time she had come upon 
the young Indian in that same spot and each 
time he had been digging with a small trowel, 
very carefully. Also as carefully replacing 


Compensations 317 

the soil he had removed and covering it with 
the sods which had grown above it. 

“ It isn't buttermilk, it’s this morning’s 
setting, with the cream on top, and it’s for a 
lady, a visitor and her husband. I’ve — we’ve 
got company, and Mere Marie said one should 
always offer hospitality. This is all the 
hospitality I’ve got and I’m going to offer it. 
What are you digging for ? Are there snakes 
there? Will they get inside the house? 
and Oh ! I hate snakes ! ” 

“ There might be. I hain’t found none yet. 
And I’m done. You needn’t tell Grand- 
Pierre, and you’re so full of secrets your- 
self, you can’t find fault with me having one 
of my own ; so there ! You and that Law- 
rence girl are in that shut room every day you 
live, and nobody knows what’s going on 
within. If you’ll tell me I’ll tell you. I will 
so. I’d be glad to. I don’t see no great fun 
in secrets myself, I don’t.” 

Oh I I can’t. It isn’t mine — I mean 

Don’t hinder me any longer. Please take the 
corner of your smock — I don’t s’pose you’ve 
got a handkerchief — and wipe that milk off, 
won’t you? Such a pity ! And my ^ spotty ’ 


3i 8 Little Miss Evangeline 

isn’t ironed and this was clean Oh, 

dear ! I oughtn’t to be so long. It isn’t 
manners to leave your company ” 

Charlie obligingly wiped what he could of 
the spilled milk from her skirt but at the 
same time grasped it firmly, demanding : 

“ Did you tell the company about me ? 
What did they say about me? ” 

“ Not a word. Let go, now. That will do, 
and do go back to the corn-field. Mr. Melan- 
son said it should be worked right away, and 
the cherries ought to be picked, and — I can’t 
stop. Let me go now.” 

“ Hmm. All right. Farmer, he’s terrible 
bossy, but I’m going.” 

With that Charlie took his trowel and de- 
parted, but discovering the strange gentleman 
talking with Mr. Brevard and Big Sandy, 
made it his business to find out theirs, and 
joined them. 

A short time after, Mr. and Mrs. Winslow 
drove away, leaving Winifred behind, who 
exclaimed : 

“ Don’t you look so worried. It’s all right. 
I told Aunt Betty I was learning something 
that only you could teach me. That w^e 


Compensations 319 

were studying it behind closed doors and 
it was a secret yet. After awhile I would tell 
her what it was, whether I learned what I 
wanted or not. O Angel ! Do you think I 
shall? I didn^t do so well yesterday. I 
haven^t since that day on the water. I was 
so frightened. I was never so frightened in 
all my life, and I can’t get over it. But — 
will we succeed ? I mean, can I? ” 

“ Of course. You must. You’re doing it for 
others’ sakes, as well as your own. Don’t you 
give up. Don’t you dare I Because you 
must, and what you must you can. There’s 
always a way. Like knitting a stocking. 
Did you ever knit a stocking ? ” 

“ Never ! nor even seen one knit ! ” laughed 
Winifred. Did you ? ” 

“ Once. Once ! It was awfully hard to 
learn, and it seemed as if I’d never get 
through in all my life. I’d keep dropping 
stitches and having to rip it out and pick 
them up again, and it was in the fall when 
nuts were ripe. My brothers teased me to 
stop and go off into Lighthouse woods 
and gather them, but my mother made me do 
my ‘ stent ’ first. Then the boys would take 


320 Little Miss Evangeline 

hold of the leg of the sock — it wasn’t a regu- 
lar long one, only short — and pull it to make 
it seem as if I’d knit lots. I’d pull the 
needle-end till it looked as if we’d got the 
‘ stent ’ finished. But I didn’t go. I’d pull as 
hard as any of them, but when it came to going 
I couldn’t. Not till I’d told my mother. I 
couldn’t cheat her ; I’m an Acadian. But 
that wasn’t what I meant. It was how it 
came to me, all in a minute, the way to do it. 
I was ‘ turning the heel ’ and it wouldn’t 
turn, and I was mad. Then I happened to 
look up in my mother’s face and saw she was 
so ashamed of me being so dull to learn that 
there were tears in her eyes, real tears. My 
mother can do anything, everything. She’s 
so clever she’d rather do things herself than 
bother showing. That was the way then. 
She could have taken that stocking-sock and 
^ set ’ that heel quick as wink. She didn’t 
look as though she’d ever have me knit any- 
thing more, but she did mean I should finish 
that Christmas present for my father. 

“ I fiung the old thing on the floor and she 
didn’t say a word. Then I picked it up 
again and made a face at it, and then— just 


Compensations 321 

like a door had opened in my stupid brains — I 
saw exactly how I And I did it. That’s the 
way things come. To me, anyway. Lessons, 
and cleaning churns, and — anything. That’s 
the way it will to you. All at once some- 
thing will make you feel bad, or scared, or 
wake you up, seems if, and you can do it 1 
You’ll just have to, and you won’t stop to 
think — you’ll do I 

Oh, Angel, do you think so? ” 

“ I’m sure of it. Now let’s go over and 
see Big Sandy and get their dinners. Then 
we’ll have ours. Just think how splendid for 
him to walk again. He has to use crutches, 
same as you. The doctor lent them, because he 
always keeps a pair for his patients. Odd ! 
So many folks break themselves, isn’t it? 
Sandy thinks he can begin to work now, but 
I hope it won’t be shoeing horses. Just fix- 
ing ox-yokes, and tires, and making shoes 
ready to put on when he needs ’em, that 
won’t hurt. Why, my heart ! He’s lighted 
the fire! He’s going to do something this 
very day I Grand-Pierre is at the bellows, 
and he’s singing I Oh I what a darling world 
it is 1 ” 


322 Little Miss Evangeline 

But it did not seem quite so gay and satis- 
factory when, a few days later, Grand-Pierre 
kissed her good-bye and went off with Uncle 
Jack in a well loaded wagon for a two weeks^ 
camping in the woods, far across country to 
the south shore. There were tears in her eyes 
and there was a dread that something might 
happen before they two met again. 

Something did happen, Winnie dear, last 
time he went. Mere Marie wasnT here when 
he came back. And that day ,on the rocks of 
Blomidon. I’ve never talked about it. Doc- 
tor didn’t want me to and I didn’t want — my- 
self. Some things get so far deep down in your 
heart you just can’t speak about them, don’t 
you see ? You just can’t. But to you is like 
talking to myself. And since then it’s seemed 
such a little narrow line between living and — 
and the other. I haven’t killed a single bug 
or worm since then. I couldn’t. I couldn’t 
any more now take away the thing that’s the 
live part of them than anything. I could so 
easily take it away but I could never put it 
back ! I tried once. I stepped on what Ailsie 
calls a ^ kittenpillar ’ — the baby ones — and I 
tried to make it move again, but I couldn’t. 


Compensations 323 

Never mind. Something’s sure to happen, 
but maybe, after all, it’ll be a good something 
’stead of a bad. Anyhow, it’ll be nicer some- 
ways ; though that sounds horrid, doesn’t it, 
to say about Grand-Pierre ? But you see he 
eats — eats quite heartily. I have to stop the 
fresh-meat-man real often. Charlie Micmac 
says I give my grandfather more beefsteak in 
a week than M^re Marie used to in a month. 
Charlie Micmac needn’t talk. He’s always 
glad enough if Grand-Pierre leaves a piece on 
the dish and I give it to him. I don’t al- 
ways. Sometimes, if I can keep myself real 
deaf, like, when Charlie’s asking for it, I save 
it and make it into hash for his breakfast. 
Did you ever make breakfast-hash, the Aca- 
dian way, Winifred ? ” 

Never. Nor in any other way. You 
must teach me, please, some time.” 

I will, and I’ll tell you right now, before 
I forget. You take your meat and your 
wooden bowl and your chopping-knife and 
you put your cold meat into it. All cut up in 
tiny pieces, with every speck of the fat and 
gristle left out. (You feed those scraps to the 
chickens.) Then you chop and chop and you 


324 Little Miss Evangeline 

chop I Till the meat is as fine as fine I Then 
you take an onion and peel it. (If you peel 
it under water it won’t make your eyes cry.) 
Then you chop that. Then you take your 
cold boiled potatoes — always have cold ones 
for hash, Winnie, and you chop them. All 
right in the same bowl with the meat, and 
you mix them, and you stir them, and you 
stir them till they are all well blended. 

“ Next you put a little water in your 
spider ” 

In what, Angel?” asked Winifred, start- 
led. 

“ Your spider. This ; though maybe your 
folks haven’t one,” said this proud little 
housekeeper, producing a well scoured utensil 
from her cupboard. 

Oh ! I see. A saucepan, or frying-pan. 
Yes, I think we have some at home. We 
must have, of course, though I’ve never seen 
them.” 

“ Never — seen — them ? How queer ! ” 

Well, not so very queer, since I’ve 
never walked nor had the chance other girls 
have to poke about a kitchen and watch the 
cook.” 


Compensations 325 

** Oh ! I see. Well — may No matter. 

You put the chopped lot into the spider with 
the little bit of water and some salt and pep- 
per and as much butter as your conscience ’ll 
let you. When I want it to be perfectly splen- 
did for Grand-Pierre, I just shut my eyes 
when I get to that butter part and cut off a 
piece — not seeing ; and after it’s in the hash 
I can’t get it out again, can I ? And if he 
eats it that way it’s his just the same as if it 
were spread on bread or shortcake. Do you 
think you could do it by the telling? I 
didn’t know so much about it, only Mrs. Me- 
lanson told me. She said Mere Marie taught 
her. Fancy teaching Mrs. Melanson any- 
thing I ” 

I can’t fancy it. She’s one of the know- 
it-already kind. But I do like her, though 
I’m a little sorry for her, having to carry the 
care of the whole countryside on her shoulders. 
Even worrying over your government, some- 
times, as I heard her telling Aunt Betty. 
But where now ? ” 

To the black cherry tree. I’ll gather some 
for you, they’re so nice. After that we’ll go 
to the shut room and — you know. Oh I it’s 


326 Little Miss Evangeline 

just as well Grand-Pierre has gone, for the 
cherries must be picked and sent to market 
and I’ll have to do it, I guess, because Charlie 
— Charlie’s acting queer. He says he’s got 
something on his mind. It must be a pretty 
heavy something, to make him so cross and 
not like he was. He talks so much about 
Mere Marie’s money, and asks me so much 
that I get provoked. I should think that 
would be the last thing he’d like to speak 

of He, Charlie Micmac ! ” 

Why he in especial, Angel ? The whole 
community seems to have that missing jar of 
money on its mind. I’ve heard that the jar 
held thousands of dollars, that Mere Marie 
had been half her long lifetime collecting it, 
and also that it couldn’t have held more than 
a few cents. The farmer’s family were dis- 
cussing it so much last night that I dreamed 
about it. Dreamed that it was found, and 
that you were so glad that you turned into a 
regular angel, your wings grew out quick — 
like that ! and you sailed away right up 
into the sky to carry the jar to her. Don’t 
let’s talk of it any more. Let’s go get the 
cherries,” 


Compensations 327 

Yes, indeed, right away. But, Winifred, 
don’t dreams sometimes come true ? ” 

“I don’t know. I hope that one won’t. 
At least that part where you sail off into the 
clouds. Come on.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


A MIRACLE 

Aunt Betty’s delight and interest in the 
cottage and forge households deepened that of 
Mrs. Melanson. This good woman was now 
too busy to go across fields very often, though 
she did not forget how much she owed to 
Angel’s self-sacrifice, and seldom looked into 
Marian’s face without a grateful thought of 
that other girl who had saved her daughter’s 
life. 

Such a brave, helpful, ambitious child ! 
The idea of a twelve-year-old keeping house 
— even in a cottage I And her devotion to 
her grandfather is touching to a degree. She 
seems to have stepped right into that old 
Mere Marie’s shoes, so to speak. She told me 
in the quaintest way that he had been ^ given 
to her, for her very own.’ She has adopted 
him as if he were a baby and she a ^ Little 
Mother.’ I don’t wonder my Winnie loves 
328 


A Miracle 


329 


her, and whatever they are doing together in 
that ^ shut room ^ of theirs seems of pro- 
foundest interest to them both. They call it 
^ lessons,^ and make a mystery of the kind 
they study. Winifred has made some really 

very worthy sketches of Well, nearly 

everything about the cottage. Just now she 
has taken up animals ; and I was present at a 
' sitting ^ in which Kaddy, the colt ; Father 
Michael, the rooster ; and Jimmy-cat were 
grouped. It was very funny. More funny 
than successful, maybe, though the rooster 
stood as if hypnotized. We hope Winifred 
may develop into a fine artist — if her strength 
is sufficient,^^ said Aunt Betty to her landlady, 
one morning. 

“ Don't you think she looks stronger for her 
life in this quiet country ? " asked the farm- 
wife, without pausing in her task of shelling 
the peas for dinner. 

“ Yes, I do. She gets pretty tired. Ma'am 
'Liza reports, after those mysterious ^ lessons,' 
and almost always has to lie down. But, the 
poor child has always done more lying down 
than sitting up, short as her life has been ; so 
that is nothing new. What's this, master 


330 Little Miss Evangeline 

Ned ? Baskets, and baskets — and still more 
baskets ! 

Ned laughed and ducked his head, in his 
shy country fashion, but his mother answered 
for him : 

“ He wanted to ride to the cottage with 
you, on the back of the buckboard, if you 
don’t object. Angel is making rather slow 
work of the cherry-picking, Archie tells me, 
and that Charlie Micmac doesn’t help her as 
he should. You see, Mrs. Winslow, farmers 
have to adapt their work to their needs. 
Though our Nova Scotia cherries are judged 
about the finest in the world, they must be 
gathered in season or lost. It’s so here on 
our own farm and everywhere. The fruit is 
profitable and we save it, even if some other 
crops are neglected. All our hands are ^ pick- 
ing ’ now, and Ned is going to help Angel get 
Mere Marie’s off the trees. I shall always 
think of that place as Mere Marie’s. I’ve 
known her ever since I came to the Gaspereau, 
a homesick Cockney. 

Now, Ned ! No larks ! You’re not of 
much use at home, but I hope you will really 
help poor Angel. Remember what we all 


A Miracle 


33 ‘ 

owe her, on sister’s account ; and tell her that 
our wagon will stop and take her baskets with 
our own, when he drives to the station, to- 
night. Good-bye, Mrs. Winslow. I hope 
you’ll get up a good appetite for your first 
Nova Scotia peas. I’m told we’re about six 
weeks behind the States in our garden truck, 
and I promise you the finest strawberries you 
ever tasted all through August. Anything I 
can do to help your plan along I’m ready for. 
Angel ought to have some help, I know.” 

Aunt Betty groaned in such a funny fash- 
ion as she lifted her solid figure into the 
buckboard that Ned laughed. He was al- 
ready perched on the rear of the wagon amid 
a pile of baskets which his mother had sent 
Angel for her cherries. The combined efforts 
of many pickers could not have filled them in 
a day, but Ned had reckoned by his present 
ambition rather than his ability. 

After a short distance had been passed, 
Mrs. Winslow threw her wrap aside, exclaim- 
ing : 

Why, how warm it is ! And how still I 
The heat is as if it came from some under- 
ground furnace. At home, in Baltimore, I 


332 Little Miss Evangeline 

should prophesy a ' gust/ an electric storm, 
and a heavy one.’^ 

To this the driver made no response. He 
was too busy with Black Jack, for almost the 
first time between the shafts of any vehicle. 
Ned also was intensely occupied in computing 
how many baskets, pints or quarts, at a penny 
for two pints, he could earn between then and 
sundown. From which it appears that his 
desire to help ’’ was because his mother had 
promised payment, according to his industry. 

With two such silent companions and the 
unusual heat, Mrs. Winslow was very glad 
when she reached the cottage, whither Winifred 
had gone earlier on her beloved ox-mobile. 

But Aunt Betty had laughingly declined to 
ride behind horned cattle,^' of which she 
had a city woman’s ignorance and fear. So 
the two had gone their separate ways and 
Winifred was already in the little, wide open 
barn, helping ; and calling, as Black Jack was 
brought to a standstill upon his haunches : 

Here am I, Auntie dear ! Come right out 
here. The idea of anybody preferring to ride 
behind an unbroken colt instead of a pair of 
steady oxen.” 


A Miracle 


333 


** Oh I my child, isn't he broken ? I 
didn’t know it, and I’m glad I didn’t. But 
what are you doing? And what delicious 
cherries I Where’s the little housekeeper ? ” 
asked Mrs. Winslow, as she joined her niece 
in the old barn. 

She’s a little horticulturist this morning, 
Aunt Betty. She’s up a tree. Over yonder, 
see ? Right in that biggest tree, between us 
and the cottage, where the ladder is.” 

“What are you doing? And good-morn- 
ing, Evangeline,” called the lady, seating her- 
self upon a wooden box over which an empty 
sack had been spread. Winifred herself was 
perched upon a pile of hay and had a big 
basket of cherries beside her. From this she 
was deftly filling the small quart boxes in 
which the cherries were marketed. 

“ Good-morning, Mrs. Winslow, I’m happy 
to see you, even though I have to be so high 
up. But Winifred knows. You are to go 
into the house and use Mere Marie’s big chair 
and do anything you like when you get 
tired out there. Ailsie will wait on you. 
I’ve told her how, for I knew you were 
coming.” 


334 Little Miss Evangeline 

“ Thank you, dear, but I shan’t tire of this 
old barn very soon. How sweet it smells of 
hay and — things. You see I don^t often get 
into a barn, a country one, and I shall like it. 
Why, it’s clean as a room ! ” 

Yes’m, Mrs. Winslow. That’s because 
Charlie Micmac is so neat. Mere Marie 

taught him and Here he comes now. 

Charlie, can’t you get our company a real 
chair out of the room ? Winifred said box, 
but it doesn’t seem polite. Now I won’t talk 
any more, for a minute, till I get my basket 
full. I’m so silly I can’t talk and work, too. 
Why — Ned I You here ? With baskets ? 
Why ? ” 

The girl peered down through the green 
branches where, as Mrs. Winslow fancied, she 
hung like a great red cherry herself, and saw 
Ned climbing the ladder that rested against 
the tree, and upon which she went up and 
down with her own full and empty basket. 

“ Yep. To help. Ma sent me. Where’ll 
I pick ? Where’s Little Sandy ? ” 

In that low tree by the pasture fence. He 
doesn’t like ladders, and he does like cherries. 
I thought he might pick there, because that 


A Miracle 


335 

kind doesn’t bring quite so much money and 
are just as good to fill up on.” 

“ Guess I’ll go stay with him. Does he get 
paid, Angel ? ” 

“ Paid ? Who ever heard of being ^ paid ’ 
just for picking cherries? How funny! 
Does your mother pay you for picking hers ? ” 
N-no — y-es. But — never mind. I’ll come 
with you. They’re thicker here. Can’t I eat 
any of ’em if I stay ? ” 

No, Neddy, not this kind. These are our 
very, very best. Mere Marie would only let 
me have three or four. She never ate any of 
this kind herself and even Grand-Pierre 
didn’t get many. If you came to eat cherries 
instead of pick them you might have stayed at 
home, for Farmer Melanson has more than 
anybody ’round. Or, you may just go to 
Little Sandy’s tree. I told him I’d give him 
an hour to eat all he wanted in and he must 
eat them fast. The faster you eat of one 
thing steady, the sooner you get sick of it. 
When you get sick of a thing you let it alone. 
Now, I shan’t talk any more ; only — don’t you 
dare to break the branches. Don’t you dare.” 

After this there was silence between the 


336 Little Miss Evangeline 

girl in the top of the tree, where the fruit 
was finest, and the boy lower down. Her big 

basket filled rapidly, but his Well, he 

was for a time exceeding glad that the foliage 
was so heavy that year, and that even Angel’s 
sharp eyes could not see through thick green 
leaves. 

Out in the barn, Mrs. Winslow, Winifred, 
and little Ailsie were happy and full of 
mirth. Winifred steadily sorted and ar- 
ranged her tiny baskets with artistic skill, 
while the lady only succeeded in staining her 
fingers and crushing much fruit, in her 
efforts to give full measure. Little Ailsie 
passed empty baskets, or quart cups, to Wini- 
fred, and carried away her filled ones to a box 
in which she packed them for the market. 
Her little mouth was purple with juice and 
her pink frock even ** spottier ’’ than Angel’s 
soft-soaped one. But she was happy — as 
happy as she could be with the distance of a 
garden’s width between her and her brother. 
It was from him that she had received the 
fruit which stained, for she would not touch 
a single cherry of the choicer sort which 
Angel had forbid. 


A Miracle 


337 

Sandy ? Brother Sandy ? she called on 
her next excursion across to his tree. 

‘‘ What ? You there again ? 

Yep. Little Sandy ? ” 

What you want? I can^t pick with you 
botherin' all the time." 

“Can't you? Ailsie doesn't bovver. 
Does you love Ailsie, Sandy Wylde ? " 

“ Of course. Go back out the way." 

“ Little Sandy, is your mouth full ? 
Sounds all muffly. T'row Ailsie a cherry. 
Poor Ailsie hasn't got any cherries, not one. 
Ailsie loves you, brother Sandy." 

Down came a handful of fruit, and away 
trotted the child, to resume her waiting upon 
the cripple ; where arrived, Mrs. Winslow 
caught her up and smothered her with kisses. 
Then she continued, speaking to Winifred : 

“Yes, dear, I think it is a nice arrange- 
ment all round. Mrs. Melanson doesn't 
really like to have Ma'am 'Liza in her house, 
under present conditions. While you were 
alone together she put up with it ; but — she 
certainly never enjoyed having her for a 
^ parlor boarder,' so to speak." 

“ Why, Aunt Betty, I never heard her 


338 Little Miss Evangeline 

utter an objection. Not after that very first 
day. What 

“ I’m here to look after you now and shall 
be as long as you stay. I don’t like the idea 
of Angel being here alone with nobody but 
that Indian boy, who acts so queer sometimes, 
and little Ailsie. Besides, I’d like to have 
her enjoy herself a bit. I’d like to take her 
on our drives about this beautiful country. 
I’d like to run down to Digby with her and 
see her home. I’m greatly interested in the 
girl, more than seems quite natural, almost. 

“ So I’ve talked it over with Ma’am Liza, 
and she’s perfectly willing to come and live at 
this cottage and be at the head of things. At 
least till Pierre Brevard gets back.” 

Auntie dear, she’ll never be ^ head.’ I 
think Angel would love to have her come, and 
it must be lonesome for the girl. But she looks 
upon herself as the deputy of Mere Marie. 
I’m sure of that, though she never said so. 
But she’s so careful to do things exactly as 
that old woman did, to keep up all the 
Acadian ways and traditions, and Be- 

sides, how could Ma’am ’Liza cook without 
any conveniences ? Or content herself with 


A Miracle 


339 

the plain fare Angel provides?” returned 
Winifred. 

‘‘ Easily enough. She was reared in a south- 
ern Virginia home and, I warrant you, would 
just delight in baking an old-time hoe-cake 
in the ashes of that hearth. Besides, it is 
partly on account of the food I want her to 
come. We will have Angel understand that 
Ma^am ’Liza must have rich things and pre- 
fers to fix them for herself. I’ll see to it that 
she does the marketing ; and that fresh-meat- 
man shall tarry at yonder gateway each day 
of his life, till I see little Angel’s face grow 
plump and rosy as it should be. Then both 
this household and Big Sandy’s shall be well 
cared for, and Ma’am ’Liza, who’s almost as 
silly over these people as you are, will be 
happy in doing good. 

'' Oh I I think it is all settled ; but — hark I 
What a curious noise ! ” 

Isn’t it ? Sounds like a low whistling 
over the fioor. Why, look out I Just see 
how dark it grows. A moment ago it was so 
warm I was perspiring, and now I’m all a-chill. 
See Kaddy out in the field. He acts as if he 
were frightened. And Father Michael has 


340 Little Miss Evangeline 

called his hens into the chicken-yard, under 
the coop. Jimmy-cat under the tree — why, 
that cat has gone crazy.’^ 

Winifred clasped her hands in a surprised 
dismay. The whole outlook had altered, and 
with a sense of something unfamiliar and ter- 
rible little Ailsie buried her face in the hay 
and began to cry. Till suddenly remembering 
her beloved brother, she dashed out of the 
door to seek him. 

But she was no sooner out than back, 
screaming in her fright : 

Oh ! the blow, the blow ! The trees 

Stop it, Winifred, stop it I Ailsie’s afraid, Ail- 
sie’s afraid. 

Mrs. Winslow had hurried to the door and 
looked out. She, also, was beginning to be a 
little frightened at the awful blackness and 
the angry wind. She turned to glance at 
Winifred, who had caught up her crutches and 
was now standing beside her, though clinging 
fast to the door-frame, lest she should be 
blown away. 

Oh ! those children in the trees I But 
— ah ! they Ve clambered down. They^re run- 
ning — all but Angel,” cried Mrs. Winslow, 


A Miracle 


34» 


stooping to pick up Ailsie from her nest in the 
hay and hushing her sobs against her breast. 
“ It^s a tornado.’^ And a moment later added : 

And a cloud-burst.’’ 

Winifred said nothing. Her eyes strained 
through the darkness seeking a little figure 
in a red frock, and for a long time miss- 
ing it. Was she in that tree-top still ? She 
couldn’t be. She surely would have been blown 
from it, so wildly it swayed, while the pre- 
cious cherries that had been so carefully pro- 
tected were hurled like hailstones every- 
where. 

With a crash a large branch fell near her 
and then came the rain ! Rain, and hail, too, 
fiercer than falling cherries. Where was 
Angel ? 

Ah ! I see her. Right beneath, trying to 
cover her basket. She doesn’t know — she 
doesn’t understand — or she’s afraid to move. 

Why Oh ! Angel I The ladder — the 

ladder ! ” 

Even though the words were spoken close 
at her ear Mrs. Winslow could scarcely hear 
them because of the shrieking of the wind 
through the old rafters overhead. She tried 


342 Little Miss Evangeline 

to answer, but horror held her dumb and 
motionless, as if stricken to stone. 

But a miracle had happened I With her 
crutches tossed aside, darting forward on her 
own two feet, she saw Winifred, the cripple 
who had never walked, reach Angel’s side and 
snatch her away from a peril of death. For 
at that instant the heavy, old-time ladder fell 
crashing on the spot where the little maid 
had stood. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE SOLVING OF THE MYSTEKIES 

Save for his heavy weight the doctor could 
not have held his ground long enough to free 
old Katy from the shafts, and the instant he 
had accomplished this, the wind caught up 
the phaeton and carried it away like a feather. 

Struggling against the fearful gale, his face 
cut by the dashing hailstones, and his cloth- 
ing drenched by the downpour of water and 
ice, and leading his horse, he made his way to 
the old barn and the group of terrified persons 
there. 

Never was coming more opportune. To 
his surprise Charlie Micmac stepped forward 
instantly and took Kate from him to the 
empty stall beside that one where Kaddy now 
whinnied and whimpered in nervous fear. 
Indeed, nobody spoke. How could one — in 
the face of that awful glimpse of nature's 
power? All stood stock-still, waiting what 
next, save Winifred, who had sunk upon the 
floor and covered her face with her hands. 

343 


344 Little Miss Evangeline 

Then a blinding flash, before which all 
cowered, and a thunderous report that shook 
the old barn to its foundations and sent them 
staggering backward and gasping for breath 
itself. 

Struck ! ” cried the physician, at last. 
“ The old chimney has gone down.^^ 

His voice broke the spell upon the others 
and Aunt Betty moved forward, pointing to 
Winifred upon the floor : 

'' She — she — walked — she ran ! cried the 
amazed woman, still pointing toward her 
niece ; then weakly dropped upon her box 
again and burst into hysterical sobs. 

'' What ? W-h-a-t ! ” demanded Dr. Du- 
pont, with almost equal excitement. 

Only the lady’s weeping answered him, till 
Angel found her voice and exclaimed between 
tears and laughter : 

She did ! She did ! I knew it. When 
she must she could ! Oh I I am so glad, so 
glad!” 

He half-shook her as he clasped her 
shoulder, still confused and unbelieving : 

Evangeline Brevard, take care what you are 
saying. Has this electric storm turned us all 


The Solving of the Mysteries 345 

light-headed? Who walked? who ran? what 
does this mean ? ” 

Angel did not resent the pressure of the 
hand she loved. She merely drew it around 
to her lips and kissed it gratefully. But his 
questions had steadied her, as well as the 
swift subsiding of the tempest, so that her 
low tones were distinctly heard and were like 
sweetest music in Aunt Betty^s ears. 

It means just this. Winifred can walk 
and she did run. She’s been learning all 
these weeks in the shut room. Those were 
our ^ lessons,’ Mrs. Winslow, and our own 
mystery which we wouldn’t tell anybody 
till we were sure, sure, sure. She felt she 
couldn’t bear it to have anybody even guess 
before that. Now anybody may know, and I 
feel like shouting it out loud, loud, loud ! ” 

The doctor sat down on the oat-bin — it was 
the handiest resting place and he needed sup- 
port just then. He was dripping wet, but he 
did not hesitate to lift Angel up beside him, 
and she being just as wet it did not matter. 
Such great joy as filled their hearts, at that 
moment, would effectually prevent their 
** taking cold” — if either of them had re- 


346 Little Miss Evangeline 

membered that danger. But they didn't. 
Neither did solicitous Aunt Betty care that 
Winifred's own shoulders were damp, from 
her dash into the storm. What they wanted 
was the story of this miraculous cure, and it 
was Winifred herself who gave it, after all, 
when the doctor tersely ordered : 

Go ahead. Talk." 

“ It was all Angel's doing. One day she 
remarked that my feet were as good as hers 
and considerably larger. Which was more 
true than flattering. I told her my lameness 
wasn't in my feet but my legs. She said — 
use them. I said — I can't. She said — you 
can because you must. Probably some of you 
have heard her make that remark before? " 

have. It's one of her little manner- 
isms," answered Dr. Dupont, giving Angel's 
hand an affectionate tap. “ Go on." 

“ She planned it all out. She said I had 
no right to make my father and mother go 
sorrowful all their lives just because I couldn't 
walk. She argued that the dear God had 
given me just as good legs and feet as He had 
anybody, and that it was my duty to use 
them. She said she'd teach me how, and she 


The Solving of the Mysteries 347 

did. We began by laying aside the crutches 
and my just standing. Ah! I shall never 
forget what torture that was 1 

“ Oh 1 my poor, poor Winnie 1 wailed 
Aunt Betty. 

Hush 1 ” said the doctor, brusquely. 

What next ? This is the most interesting 
case I ever heard of. And the first pro- 
fessionally ’’ 

“ I fancy there wasnT much professional 
about it. Dr. Dupont. It began that way. 
Finally I could move an inch without the 
crutches. Then a foot — a little more — at last 
the whole width of the room. That day we 
sat down like two sillies and cried, we were 
so glad. 

“ But it has been hard, awfully painful and 
hard. I never, never should have stuck to it 
but for Angel. She simply would not let me 
give up, no matter. She built up my will 
with her own, and it is her perseverance that 
has cured me. We’ve known I could walk 
since a week ago, but it was so tremblingly 
that it was almost worse than crutches. But 
Angel told me the truth. She said my walk- 
ing was like her knitting a stocking. She 


348 Little Miss Evangeline 

thought she should never learn that and she 
wouldn^t if once the shock of making her 
mother cry over her stupidity hadn^t roused 
her to see how it was done. She said some- 
thing would shock me into using my feet 
right and fast, some time, and it has. The 
shock came when I saw her right in the way 
of that falling ladder. I saw her danger. I 
couldn’t let her die — and so — I ran. 

So — that’s all about me. But what in the 
world is the matter with Charlie Micmac? 
See him standing out there beside that fallen 
chimney and staring as if he were petrified. 
Or — as if he saw a ghost ! ” 

The rain had ceased as suddenly as it had 
begun, and a faint glow of returning sunshine 
fell over the ruined garden and injured cot- 
tage. The prize sweet-peas were beaten down 
and mashed to pulp, and one glance at them 
sent a keen pain through Angel’s heart. 
There would be no prize money for Grand- 
Pierre, when he came home. Oh ! would he 
be safe in that far-away forest ? If he were, 
well it didn’t matter about money. Besides — 
Winifred could walk ! 

They crowded to the door to watch the 


The Solving of the Mysteries 349 

young Indian. For a long time he stood as 
if he could not believe the evidence of his own 
sight ; then with a sudden, shrill “ whoop ! ” 
that seemed a relic of barbaric days, he stooped 
and lifted a heavy something in his hands and 
brought it swiftly toward them. 

The jar of Mere Marie ! ” 

“ Well — well — this is too much 1 This is a 
day of miracles, indeed ! cried the doctor, 
fairly paling at the sight. What does it 
mean ? Can anybody tell ? 

“ Maybe I can. Anyhow I can guess. 

I One day I^d seen it when Mere Marie 

and Angel were putting money in it. I stood 
and watched ^em. Next time I had a chance in 
that room alone I took it out and looked at it. 
I didiiT count it, ^cause I didn’t have time. 
Somebody was coming in — one of the neigh- 
bors, I guess, time of our funeral.” 

Here the lad paused, proudly reflecting 
upon the glory of so many visitors as had 
then fallen upon their quiet cottage. To him 
that event was in the nature of a show ” and 
always would be ; nor was this wholly incon- 
sistent with his real affection and grief for the 
benefactress he had lost. 


35 ° 


Little Miss Evangeline 

Go on, Charlie.” 

Sugar I Ain't much more to it, only 
when I went to put the thing back I hit some- 
thing and it went over, away down behind 
a hole — or — or somewhere. She, Angel, 
thought I stole it and told me so. I never, 
no more’n she did. I only peeked, and my 
Land of Sugar ! I’ll never peek again. It’s 
been on my mind night and day. I couldn’t 
bear to stay to the cottage and I couldn’t bear 
to quit. After awhile I hit upon the idee of 
diggin’ under the chimbley. She seen me 
doin’ it, but I pretended I was after snakes. 
That made her let my diggings alone. She’s 
awful scared of snakes. And say, doctor, do 
you s’pose my digging to the bottom so, kind 
of sort of loosened the ground so that when 
that there lightning struck it tumbled down 
so easy ? ” 

My lad, I cannot say. You’ve had your 
lesson. So have I. So have we all. To de- 
spair never ; to trust and struggle on, sure, as 
our Angel says, that ' what you must you can.’ 
For the good Lord whose children we are 
lays no impossibilities upon us. There comes 
the sunshine ! After the storm, the trial, how 


The Solving of the Mysteries 351 

glorious it is I Let us all sing the Doxology — 
then go in, make a fire in the chimney of that 
* shut room,^ and get some dry clothes on. Vll 
pitch the tune — -join in I 

‘ Praise God from whom all blessings flow.^ 


THE END 


I 







$ 







I 


1 



, ' • * f . /• 

' . <v 

.1 ! ‘ :,' ' t •• . ■• 


V 1 » 

1 ' , V. 


• ^ 

• • 

A r 

r ‘ . !:• 

f . 


1 








\ 


$ • t 


I 


f 




« 


« 








, 7 ^ 

■ f 



I 

i 

I 

i 


% 


I 


f 


\ 




I 




i| 


I 








» 


« 



f 


) 

\ 


\ I 


■ if * 

I , 

t 

V ^ 

f . 

'[ •« i 




* *4 

* 4 


% 


t 


« 





I 


« 


►- 


4 


1 


r < 






j. 



9 




^ V 

4? ^ 




o 

♦ 4? 'J 


o. • 

r> > ^ II 


jU >^v 

*^0 '•'T''^^*’ C? ^’h ■«.^’ C' V 

y ,.. \. “ (jf® ,. %. ' .. 


o W 0 



. '■^O ’ ' vi> o"".”. 

f o ♦ 

’ '^b / i 

^v/ •' » # 1 • AV „ n ■' ♦ - . , • 

\ %/ ; 

* V, 

a" ' C-"^’ 

^ 0 ^ •*’'•♦ ^o 0 ® ** ® ♦ 

^ C ^ae/tTT^^"* O -vl*^ 







.0' 




O ♦ o « 0 ® -0*^ 

'4 'a' 





'’O' ^ 

O' V • 


' ♦ A • 






6^ t • ^L\ ^ c ® -» 





^ ♦ --e? V. o] 





“ <i> '^VP, 

4 <*7 '^.s 




O > 


% V ‘ 

C> ,0^ 

^ *jAW/v,<» 








< 



• aV-^ 

♦ aV '❖' 


"’■ <5’' .. ^ 

V . *.L«o&r ♦ aO •» 

V^ 






» * A ^ *7*^ o*’ 'o , . • A ^ 


l'^ 


•* 


*. o< ; 


b V 




^ A*^ ► 

• ^ * 

Z 


-2 

« ,1 *? - o V///v^^\\>i • 

♦ 4> o 

s ' aCt ^ 'o ♦ * - A 

/•Or . • ’■^ c ® *• ® 












- '{•^ im^m. v.s^ • 

.* . 






^°^ '*•»'»• .0' 

A^ ♦ r.i 



o'^ •*•**♦ '^o 

^ 6* 


6.^ 

^r C* 

^/^•„ <i. 



o w 0 




^ *»*'• .V 


# o 

’ 

aO 'iV' ■?■ V 

<*p o if . 




-^b 

°^ ■ * • ■- • ’* / %l ‘'^’ • ’ y 

'♦ -Sy ’■\'Z' > V ,* 

'• rA%#/K«- ■^. ♦ 



WERT 
BQOKBiNDiNC ■ < 

Crantville, Pa. H # 


Mav—lun^* 1^? 





o 

V 'v^ 



,-^.„.x.^ .■’ 4: 

V*-""'o^"' 

''. ^ r-' 


# .A 


‘4* 

'‘A ’'♦? 




